


Accidental Happily Ever After

by TheGirlWhoRemembers



Series: Doesn't Mean You Can't Try (Fairytales of MacGyver) [5]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairytale, Angst, Animal Transformation, Cameos, Dad Jack, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is Team Dad, LITERALLY, Mac is a Golden Retriever, Magic, Romance, Second Chances, Slow Build, Team as Family, The Frog Prince Retelling, lots and lots of cameos, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 89,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoRemembers/pseuds/TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: The Knight Sir Jack Dalton, the Engineer Angus MacGyver and his childhood best friend Wilt Bozer save the Kingdom of Phoenix from the evil wizard Murdoc, but pay a price in the form of a furry little problem.However, this curse might be a blessing in disguise, giving Mac a chance at a happy ending at last, Jack a second chance, and Bozer a chance to grow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my fourth _MacGyver_ fairytale retelling! This is a retelling of _The Frog Prince_ , and also draws some elements from the Disney movie _The Princess and the Frog_. The title is from the song _Never Knew I Needed_ from that film. 
> 
> This is by far the longest of the four fairytale retellings I’ve done – I think it’s actually as long as all three previous ones combined. So this is going to be a very long ride! At the moment, I think I’ll post twice a week, approximately every three days.

**THE WITCH OF THORNS’ TOWER**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

The dark-haired, dark-eyed, tall, elegant and beautiful woman clad in a burgundy dress locked eyes with Mac, then Jack, then Bozer. Her eyes were cool, her expression inscrutable.

Then, she spoke.

‘I will help you, but there will be a price, one that the three of you will have to pay.’

The Knight, the Engineer and Bozer all exchanged a glance, before Jack spoke.

‘ _Only_ the three of us? Not the rest of the Kingdom or our whole family lines or whatever, but…’ He gestured to the three of them. ‘… _just_ us three?’

It was always very, very important to be really specific with witches and wizards, in Jack’s opinion. Magical practitioners were tricky people, he thought, and he was a superstitious man at heart.

He thought it was especially important to be very, very precise with The Witch of Thorns, since she was a legendary, mythical figure, whom no-one had been completely sure was real.

He, a senior Knight of the Kingdom of Phoenix, and Mac, a young but accomplished member of the Order of Engineers, a group of clever and creative people who were stationed in major settlements or travelled the Kingdom, helping people by solving problems, big or small, in often-unconventional ways, had been tasked by the Kingdom’s Spymaster, a woman almost as short as she was terrifying, to find The Witch of Thorns, using little more than rumours and myths, to enlist her help to defeat the evil wizard Murdoc, who was waging a shadow war (literally and figuratively) on the Kingdom.

(How Bozer, Mac’s best friend from childhood, had wound up joining them on the quest was a _really_ long story, but he and his trusty frying pan had proven their worth time and time again.)

The Witch nodded, and spoke solemnly, in a way that crackled a little with magic, and felt like a binding oath.

‘I swear on my magic and my soul, that only the three of you, Jack Dalton, Angus MacGyver and Wilt Bozer, will pay a price for my assistance against the wizard Murdoc and his forces of darkness.’ She held out her hand, which had a faint glow to it, to Mac, locking eyes with him. ‘Will you accept these terms?’

The blonde glanced at his companions, who both nodded resolutely, even Jack.

They had no choice.

Murdoc had tormented their Kingdom for years.

He’d brought darkness over the land. Famine and disease had struck. Storms, especially those in the north, Mac thought with a pang, were far worse than they’d ever been as long as record-keeping had existed. Petty conflicts escalated more and more easily, too, be they neighbours over noise or farmers over a single sheep that’d wriggled through a hole in the dividing fence. They’d nearly gone to war with the Southern Kingdom several years ago, and only last-minute negotiations had averted it.

And Murdoc was _winning_ this war. The darkness had grown, and spread. Even those who didn’t have any magic, like Mac, Jack and Bozer, could feel that darkness in the air now.

And they had on good intelligence that Murdoc was amassing an army of foul, evil, dark creatures to openly wage war on the Kingdom.

They _had_ to stop him.

Without The Witch of Thorns’ help, the Kingdom stood no chance.

Mac nodded, and reached out and shook the Witch’s hand.

He might have been imagining it, but he swore something sad flashed across her eyes for a moment.

* * *

**MURDOC’S LAIR**

**SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

With great effort, Mac staggered to his feet after being thrown into a stone wall, picking up his telescoping, collapsible quarterstaff and re-extending it as he did so, ignoring the pain that emanated from just about everywhere in his body.

In front of him, the Witch, focused and calm and cool and collected as always, tossed balls and bolts of magic at Murdoc, who deflected them, tossing his own magic right back at her, laughing, despite the fact that he was bleeding from a gash on his arm and had several bruises on his face, a sluggishly-bleeding cut above his eyebrow and a ring of bruises around his throat, where Mac had pinned him to the wall with his quarterstaff merely a minute ago.

‘…Oh, it’s been so, so, _long_ , Patricia…’

The Witch of Thorns shifted her hands and her stance slightly in response, not breaking her focus, and sent a particularly powerful blast of magic at him, which connected, throwing him back at least ten feet.

Murdoc got up with a snarl, losing that disturbing mockery of good humour he’d had, darkness and anger and fury overtaking his eyes. He, too, sent out a powerful burst of magic.

As some kind of side-effect of all that magic, everything in the lair began to fly and swirl around the room, forcing Mac to stop in his attempt to reach the warring magicians to help the Witch.

Instead, he dropped to a crouch to check on Bozer, who was stirring weakly, his frying pan just out of reach, and Jack, who was grimacing in pain, but hadn’t dropped his broadsword. Mac quickly checked over his friend’s left arm and shoulder, which were at unnatural angles; it appeared Jack’s shoulder was dislocated, and he might also have a fracture in his arm.

Still, Mac remained aware of the fight, his mind, as busy and active and clever as ever, searching for an opening.

It arrived, when a heavy crystal ball went flying towards him, and he raised his quarterstaff and swung as hard as he could, sending the ball towards Murdoc.

The effort sent Mac staggering, made every muscle in his body scream in protest, but it was successful.

The crystal ball struck the sorcerer firmly in the chest, sending him flying, giving The Witch of Thorns an advantage to press.

She took it, gathering her magic, a look of great effort finally cracking that cool, composed mask on her face, and with a cry, sent a huge, golden ball of magic at the dark sorcerer.

It struck him, and there was a blinding light, forcing Mac, Jack and the now-conscious Bozer to look away…

* * *

When the light faded, The Witch of Thorns was still standing, breathing hard, like that had taken a lot out of her, while Murdoc was simply _gone._

His clothes were in a pile on the floor, right where he had been standing. The pile was smoking slightly.

Jack and Bozer stared with wide-eyes, the Knight glancing at the Witch in awe and a touch of fear.

Mac, meanwhile, limped over to the window and stuck his head out.

The air was different, too.

Gone was that oppressive sense of darkness that’d filled it of late.

The air was fresh and clean and clear and light, like it’d been when Mac was a child.

He turned back to the others.

‘He’s gone.’

He looked at the Witch, a question in his eyes, and she nodded, her eyes as solemn as they had been when she made that vow, though he swore there was satisfaction in there too.

‘For good.’

Mac, Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance full of relief, and Jack gave a whoop, while Bozer reached out unsteadily to bump his fist to the Knight’s, on his uninjured side. Mac smiled, taking a deep breath, feeling like a heavy, heavy weight had lifted off his shoulders, walking back over and reaching out to bump his own fist against Bozer’s, then Jack’s.

The Witch gave a tiny heartfelt smile at the sight, then waved her hands, and a calming wave of magic passed over them.

Bozer’s headache disappeared. Jack’s shoulder and arm righted themselves into their proper positions. The ache centred in Mac’s back faded to nothing.

Every little ache and pain and niggle of theirs healed.

Then, the Witch lowered her hands again, her eyes very serious, and, they all swore, sad and sorry.

‘There is a price to be paid.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’

She sounded like she really, really meant it, cold and cool as she was.

She raised her hands again, and then everything went black.

* * *

**A THIRD LOCATION IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

When Mac woke up, he was lying on soft grass in a clearing in the woods, with a pond of clear water in the middle and a couple of weeping willows.

He got to his feet, a little unsteadily, his head still foggy, and furrowed his brow in confusion.

The ground was closer than it should be.

He raised his head and looked around the clearing, searching for Jack and Bozer, but there was no sign of them.

There was, however, a black Labrador and an unusually-large brown Pit Bull Terrier, both fast asleep under the trees.

Mac’s brain began to tick into overdrive.

_If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth…_

He ran over to the pool of water, noting that movement felt different, and that he was definitely not crazy; he was much closer to the ground that he should be.

Mac stared at his reflection in the water.

A lean, atypically long-legged and particularly light-coloured Golden Retriever stared back at him.

Not able to contain his overwhelming sense of panic, which was very unusual for him, he cried out.

It came out as a bark.

* * *

Several minutes later, Mac was reading a note that had been tacked onto one of the willow trees, two feet off the ground, while Jack (the Pit Bull Terrier) and Bozer (the Labrador) freaked out in the background, feeding off one another.

‘I told you we shouldn’t trust her; she’s a witch, and magical, and mixing with magic is a big no-no, as Granny Dalton always said! If you’d have listened to Good Ol’ Jack, we wouldn’t be in this mess, brother!’

‘We’re gonna get fleas, aren’t we, bro?’

Bozer trailed off into something muttered under his breath that sounded like, _I’m too handsome for fleas!_

Mac rolled his eyes.

(It registered in his mind, interestingly, that they were yipping and barking and whining and growling, but he heard them just as clearly and in the same voices they’d had when they were human.)

(Magic was _weird._ It continued to defy all attempts by him – and other Engineers and the Kingdom’s non-magical scientists – to understand.)

He understood their panic and horror.

Any human would react that way if they were suddenly changed into a dog. He himself had no desire to be stuck in this form for the rest of his life, even if they’d apparently retained their human personalities and mental capacities.

(His lack of opposable thumbs would drive him insane.)

‘A, we could never have defeated Murdoc without her, Jack. You know that. B, the price could have been much, much worse.’ He gestured to the note. ‘And C, she left this note.’ He moved aside a little so Jack and Bozer could read it. It read, in an elegant cursive hand, _Go east, to The Cage Witch’s home. She will help you lift the curse, I swear on my magic and my soul._ A drawing of a rose with many thorns was used in place of a signature. There was the same magical heaviness around the note as that vow she’d made before Mac had taken her hand. His expression grew wry (or as wry as a dog could look, anyway, though Jack and Bozer could read it easily). ‘As for fleas…we’ll worry about that when we have to.’

He set out east, knowing Jack and Bozer would follow, and rolled his eyes again in a very long-suffering way when Jack started jabbering away as usual.

‘We sure we can trust this Cage Witch? I know, there’s that whole magical vow thing, but, you know, witch and all, got sent to her by the same witch who cursed us, even if, you know, she really saved the Kingdom…we gonna talk about her not-so-warm-and-fuzzy name? What if she wants to lock us up in a cage?’

* * *

They walked all day, and it was nightfall by the time they reached a large clearing that held a wooden cottage, with a sense of magic permeating through the air.

The first thought through Mac’s head was that wood was a very poor choice of building material in the wilderness, where bad weather was common and the damage it could cause was exacerbated by the lack of shelter provided by other buildings, the presence of large, nearby trees and the difficulty of access to building materials for repairs, aside from wood, and one couldn’t build a house _entirely_ out of wood.

The second thought was that obviously that wasn’t a problem, since The Cage Witch was a witch. Her cottage seemed very sturdy.

As soon as they stepped into the clearing, Mac heard a woman’s voice in his head.

‘Welcome.’ From the way that they stopped in their tracks and the looks on their faces, Jack and Bozer had heard it too. It was…disconcerting. There was a snort, and then the voice continued. ‘No, Jack, I am not going to lock you in a cage. That isn’t where my name comes from.’

Jack looked almost-comically terrified.

‘You can _read my mind_?’ He turned to Mac. ‘I told you, brother-‘

The cottage door opened, and out stepped a woman in a loose cream shirt and tan trousers, long blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun. She was young in an ageless kind of way, had blue eyes that seemed to see into your very soul and was almost-ethereally beautiful.

She gave a little smile that was nearly a smirk, with something a little teasing in her eyes, and spoke the normal way.

‘I can read anyone’s mind.’ That was said with nothing but confidence, like it were a fact. ‘Come in.’

Mac, Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, before trotting over to her cottage door.

* * *

The Cage Witch gave them dinner, and when both they and she had finished eating, spoke seriously, with that same magical weight to her words as The Witch of Thorns’ vow.

‘I can’t break the curse for you.’ She paused. ‘But I can guide you to those who can.’ She waved a hand, and blankets, folded into thirds, appeared on the floor of her cottage’s main room, in front of the fireplace. ‘Sleep. In the morning, you’ll know who can help you.’

And with those cryptic words, she walked over to a door that presumably led to her bedroom, the door opening as she approached and closing automatically behind her.

Mac, Jack and Bozer exchanged another glance (this had been a very, very strange, very, very long and very, very tiring and confusing day), before they shrugged and settled in on the blankets for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE CAGE WITCH’S COTTAGE**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

In his sleep, Jack snored.

After a while, he started shifting around a little, lost in memories from the past…

* * *

**SIXTEEN YEARS AGO**

**WASHINGTON CITY**

**(THE CAPITAL CITY OF PHOENIX)**

* * *

Jack was walking down the street, dressed in the everyday uniform of a Knight of Phoenix: plain dark-brown trousers, sturdy black boots and a dark-green tunic with the Kingdom’s crest on it. Three stars underneath the crest marked him as a senior Knight. He didn’t have his broadsword (as he wasn’t on patrol, he wasn’t allowed to wear it while walking around the capital), but had a dagger at his belt, as well as several other hidden weapons, of course.

He whistled to himself as he walked, enjoying the fresh air and the sunny day, not in a rush to get anywhere.

(He’d had training in the morning, followed by lunch with his men, then a whole series of meetings. He had leisure time now, until evening training and dinner in the Mess, so was making the most of it.)

‘Oh, damn it!’

It was a woman’s voice, melodious, but clearly frustrated.

It belonged to a woman a little way ahead of him on the street, with curly golden hair and light-brown skin. She was also holding a very large wooden chest, and there was a sewing basket on the ground next to her, its contents spilling out all over the cobblestones.

Automatically, Jack jogged over, and started picking up needles and pincushions, as the woman put down her chest with a bit of manoeuvring and picked up the basket.

(Given how much equipment was in the basket, he guessed she was probably a seamstress.)

She looked up at him when he deposited what he’d collected into her basket. She was a _really_ good-looking woman. Jack just smiled at her, as was kind-of automatic for him with a good-looking woman.  For a moment, he felt like she was trying to weigh him against something, with something a touch wary in her eyes. Her eyes flickered down to the crest on his front, and the stars beneath it for a beat, before she looked back up at his face.

‘Thank you, Sir.’

Jack gave a grin, and pretended to doff an imaginary hat at her in an exaggerated way.

‘Jack Dalton, ma’am. And just glad to be of service, m’lady.’ He paused, and gestured at the chest she’d been struggling with. ‘Would you like a hand with that?’

She hesitated for a moment, before she nodded gratefully.

‘My client’s house is only two blocks away.’

Jack hefted the chest into his arms liked it weighed nothing.

(It didn’t; it was really rather heavy, though far from being something he couldn’t handle with relative ease. He was impressed that she could carry it.)

‘Eh, you should see what they make us carry in training…’

* * *

A week later, Jack was sitting in a popular local tavern named the Challenger’s Tavern, finishing up his dinner and talking to Caleb Worthy, a younger but very skilled and particularly noble Knight in his squad, when the barkeep placed a mug of beer in front of him. Jack shot the woman, Cynthia, who ran the place with her husband Scott, a look of confusion, and she just smiled and gestured with her head behind him.

‘Courtesy of Ms Davis.’

Jack turned his head to see the seamstress from the week before, sitting at a small table, and holding a tankard of her own. She raised it to him in a toast, eyes sparkling and with a little smile on her face that drew him in.

Jack raised the tankard in a toast back at her, and took a drink. Her smile widened, and he forced himself to look away from her and back at Worthy. The younger man had a grin on his face, and just gestured at Ms Davis with his head, grin widening.

‘I know where I sit in the hierarchy, Dalton. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Jack reached out briefly to give the other Knight a friendly slap on the arm, before heading over to the seamstress’s table.

(Worthy passed their dishes over to a serving girl and struck up a conversation with her, instead. Jack vaguely recalled her name as being Olivia.)

‘Fancy seeing you again, Ms Davis.’

That smile widened a little, and she inclined her head gracefully to indicate the beer in his hand.

‘I figured I owed you one for last week. And my name’s Diane.’

He grinned, and waved a hand as if to say, _it doesn’t matter._

‘Nah, I’m a Knight of the Kingdom; I gotta help the people out.’ His grin shifted a little, growing joking and teasing and flirtatious. ‘Especially beautiful ladies.’

That got him a snort of laughter and a head-shake that seemed almost fondly exasperated, which he counted as a win.

Then, she replied, her voice also teasing. Flirtatious, even.

‘Oh, you _are_ a charmer, Sir Dalton.’

That was definitely a win.

‘If I’m gonna call you Diane, you gotta call me Jack.’

Her smile widened further, that sparkle in her eyes growing brighter.

‘Deal.’

He gestured at the chair next to her.

‘This seat taken?’

Her smile twisted a little.

‘Not yet.’

With a chuckle and a nod to her that said, _I see what you did there_ , Jack sat down.

* * *

Diane looked Jack dead in the eye, something fierce and scary in her gaze that reminded him of a very life-like-seeming drawing of a lioness from the Southern Kingdom he’d once seen in a book.

She’d had a very important and very wealthy client contact her to make a dress for a ball, at the last minute. She had to go (she needed the money, for her daughter’s sake – Jack had tried to help them out, but she refused to take his money, beyond letting him pay most of the time when they went out to the tavern or bring some food as his contribution if he stopped by for a meal), but as it was Friday afternoon, Riley would be home from school soon, and Diane knew she’d be working non-stop for the next couple of days at least.

She wasn’t willing to leave her baby girl all alone at home for a couple of days.

Which was where Jack came in.

‘If you ever let anything happen to her, I will end you, Jack Wyatt Dalton.’

He believed her completely. She would find a way, even if she was a simple seamstress and he was one of the foremost warriors of the Kingdom.

(His dad had always said to never get between a mama bear and her cubs.)

He just nodded seriously, in a way that seemed like a vow or an oath or a promise, never mind the fact that the twelve-year-old seemed to hate him.

‘I’ll watch out for her, Diane. I swear.’

(It wasn’t even the threat that got him to make that oath. It was the simple fact that Diane loved Riley with all of her being, and, even if he hadn’t admitted it to her yet, he loved her with all his heart.)

* * *

Jack, wearing an apron (thankfully not pink and frilly – neither Diane nor Riley were fans of pink and frilly), stirred the pot over the stove which contained the rabbit stew he was making for Diane and Riley for their dinner.

Riley walked in the front door of the mother and daughter’s little cottage, dumping her knapsack on the floor.

Jack turned and grinned at her in greeting.

‘Hey, Riley. How was school?’

She just shrugged, taking out her homework and sitting down at the kitchen table to do it.

‘It was school.’

The way she said it made it clear that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her.

Internally, Jack sighed, but kept grinning anyway.

(He was Jack Dalton, Knight of Phoenix. He did _not_ give up. He’d win her over, someday.)

(He’d made _some_ progress, after all. Three words was better than being ignored.)

Jack gestured with his wooden spoon to the pot on the stove…which had started smoking while he was distracted.

He cursed, then cursed himself internally, hoping that Riley hadn’t heard that (from the snort she gave, he was pretty sure that she had), hastily removing the stew from the heat.

‘Well, hope you’re hungry, kiddo, ‘cause I made dinner!’

Riley looked up from her homework, an eyebrow quirked and a very, very sceptical look on her face. When the smell of the stew wafted over to her, she made a face.

‘You call _that_ dinner?’

Jack looked offended, and grabbed a spoon to taste the stew.

He suppressed his natural reaction (which was to make a face of disgust), and probably only half-succeeded, if the look on Riley’s face was any indication.

‘It’s edible…’ Riley’s eyebrow rose. ‘Kinda.’ Her brow rose further, and Jack admitted defeat, for once. He scraped what was in the pot into the trash, and put the pot in the washing-up basin. ‘Whaddya you say to some chow from Challenger’s instead?’

(It wasn’t the home-cooked meal for the three of them that he’d been hoping to have waiting for her when she got home after a long day of work, but Diane smiled at him and kissed him hello just like it’d been made by his own two hands when she got home.)

(Given the slightly wry, teasing look that glimmered in her eyes, he had a sneaking suspicion that it was a warmer greeting than he’d have gotten for a home-cooked meal.)

(His cooking skills – or lack thereof – were sadly legendary.)

* * *

Bright and early on Yule, Jack walked into Diane and Riley’s cottage, with a large sack over his shoulder containing Yule gifts, and a smaller sack containing a fresh goose clutched in his other hand.

He grinned at the woman and girl sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.

‘Happy Yule to my favourite girls!’

He passed Diane the goose, and got to work putting the presents under the small, somewhat-sad-looking Yule tree in the corner, which had only had two presents under it before he’d started.

Riley rolled her eyes, though neither adult missed how her eyes brightened a little either.

(She was thirteen, and no matter what she thought, still a kid. No matter her outward behaviour, she still wanted Yule to be that magical, special time of the year.)

Diane, meanwhile, just smiled, soft and fond and broad, meeting Jack’s eyes as he finished unpacking the pile of presents.

* * *

Later, as the goose roasted and he and Diane prepared the rest of Yule dinner (he was under her careful supervision and not permitted to do more than chop vegetables, really), Diane added the potatoes to the pan the goose was roasting in, then pulled something from the pocket of her apron and held it up over her and Jack’s heads with a rather mischievous smile.

That smile made her look much younger and was very similar to one he saw on Riley’s face from time-to-time that was usually a warning that she was playing some kind of prank on him.

(He liked it better on Diane, honestly.)

(It usually was a sign of much more pleasant things happening to him than Riley’s pranks.)

She gestured up at the sprig of mistletoe above them.

‘Oh, look, mistletoe.’

And then, she leaned forward and kissed him. A proper kiss too, since Riley was in her room and they were safely out of her sight.

When he and Diane broke apart, Jack smiled, wide and soft and fond and probably stupidly besotted-looking, but at that moment, he couldn’t care less.

Yule was so much better when you had some special someones to spend it with.

* * *

That night, Jack sighed as he got into Diane’s bed, which he now shared quite often. Already nestled in the blankets (she had a habit of stealing the covers), Diane looked over at him, having recognized the exasperation and frustration tinged with sadness in his sigh, and reached out and took his hand.

He tried so, so hard, but it seemed that no matter what he did, Riley wouldn’t let him in, wouldn’t trust him, truly and completely.

(He was as sure as he could be that she’d loved her Yule gifts, though his, of course, came second to the one that her mother had given her – a beautiful, black leather coat that was _almost_ the latest fashion, which Jack knew Diane had worked well into the early hours of the morning for weeks and painstakingly saved every penny to be able to afford.)

(Riley was a very clever girl, with an inquisitive mind, so he’d gotten her a selection of books, as well as a bolt of fine, rich red fabric that she – with her mother’s help – could make a very nice dress out of.)

(He was a senior Knight and a bachelor who lived in a room in the barracks without having to pay rent and could be fed for free for every meal in the Mess.)

(Money was something he had plenty of.)

(With his sister and her husband and kids living three provinces of Phoenix away, in Jack’s native province of Dallas, he only had one kid to spoil.)

Diane stroked his hand in comfort, her eyes knowing, like she could see straight through him, into his soul.

‘Riley is hard to win over.’

There was more than a thread of guilt in her voice.

Life hadn’t been easy for Riley.

(Life hadn’t been easy for either of them, but every mother wanted the best for their child. And Diane knew that at least to some extent, their situation was caused by her choices, especially one particularly poor one she’d made in her youth.)

And as life hadn’t been easy for Riley, she’d built up walls to protect herself, walls of sarcasm and sass that Diane knew hid her baby girl’s big heart of gold.

She continued, raising her other hand to cup Jack’s cheek.

(This time, she knew she was making the right choice. Jack Dalton might well be the best man she’d ever met.)

‘But she really likes you, trust me. I know my baby girl.’

Jack nodded, and smiled, still a little sadly, but more hopeful, optimistic, than that sigh had sounded.

‘Well, you know that Jack Dalton doesn’t give up…’

Diane smiled at him, gentle and affectionate, before her smile shifted into something with more fire and something teasing in it.

‘Oh, I know…’

And with that, she leaned over to kiss him.

(She didn’t need mistletoe to do that.)

* * *

Fifteen-year-old Riley cursed as she chopped vegetables, having insisted on preparing dinner herself. Jack instantly looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing a report about some troublesome bandits he and his squad of Knights had been dispatched to deal with the day before.

Riley had quickly started holding her bleeding hand under the tap of the cottage’s water barrel, with a bowl underneath to catch the disturbingly-red water.

Jack hurried over, and crouched down by her, examining the wound.

‘You’re gonna wanna head to the Houses of Healing, Riley. That’s a nasty one.’

Riley, who had tears pooling in her eyes from the pain, but was stubbornly refusing to let them fall, grabbed a clean kitchen towel and wrapped it around her hand.

‘I know, I’m going now.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Can you pick up some dinner?’ She paused again, before continuing, like she felt she needed to offer some kind of excuse for actually asking Jack to do something for her. ‘So Mom has something to eat when she gets home from work?’

It was too blasé and had taken her too long to say, like she hadn’t actually had an excuse in mind at all when she’d asked him to obtain dinner, simply asked him because she knew and trusted that he’d do it, since that was his job or role now.

Jack quickly packed up his report, sticking the slightly-crumpled scroll into his coat pocket.

‘Yeah, I’ll get your Mom some grub, but I’m going with you to the Houses first, okay?’

Riley rolled her eyes, voice stubborn.

‘I’m fifteen, Jack, and I’ve lived here my whole life. I know how to get there.’

He waved a hand casually, but locked eyes seriously with her.

‘Sorry, Riley, no can do. Standard operating procedure. I don’t let my men go to the Houses alone either, in case an injury is worse than it looks and they can’t get there safely.’

Riley locked eyes stubbornly with him for a moment, before she turned and headed for the door, though not before Jack noticed something that was clearly respect and something that looked an awful lot like affection in her eyes.

‘Fine. Come on.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing scenes from Jack, Riley and Diane’s past together. It’s something that I’d like to see more of in canon, honestly, but I figure we won’t get it now…ah well, that’s what fanfic’s for, right? 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Get back into bed, MacGyver.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super-long, but there was no good place to break it in two…

**THE PRESENT**

**THE CAGE WITCH’S COTTAGE**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

Fast asleep, Mac rolled over, tail shifting a little, expression changing, as events of ten weeks ago played through his mind…

* * *

**THE HOUSES OF HEALING**

**LAFAYETTE TOWN**

* * *

Mac sighed, listening to the sounds of Bozer whiffling gently in his sleep, and Jack snoring loudly, on either side of him.

He couldn’t see them, due to the screens that the Healers had put up between the beds to give them some privacy, but he was well-aware that they were there, thanks to the noise.

He, Jack and Bozer had been travelling through the province of Lafayette on their way to the wilderness to seek out The Witch of Thorns. They’d been ambushed by bandits, and although they’d held their own for a time, things had been getting very, very desperate and they’d thought they might well die and their quest fail when a patrol of Knights from Castle Lafayette, sent to capture the bandits, had come upon them.

The Knights had saved them from the bandits, then brought them to the Houses of Healing in the town that hosted Castle Lafayette, thankfully nearby.

That had been almost a day ago; they’d arrived in the early hours of the morning, just as dawn was breaking, and it was now the middle of the night.

Mac sighed again, and threw the covers off, before getting to his feet and quietly creeping over to the door.

Just as quietly, he opened it, but he only got it half-open before he was interrupted by a woman’s voice.

‘Get back into bed, MacGyver.’ Her voice was very firm, admonishing him for doing what he was not supposed to be doing (attempting to escape the Houses), and warning him off not doing what he was supposed to be doing (lying in bed). Mac’s expression, meanwhile, grew surprised. How had she known it was him, and not Jack or Bozer? And how unlucky did he have to be for someone to spot the door opening in the middle of the night, even if Healers did make patrols to check on their patients? He opened the door fully and looked around it, and saw a petite woman perhaps a couple of years younger than him, with a pretty, sweet face and brown eyes, ten feet down the corridor. She was wearing a Healer’s uniform: a simple, plain and practical grey dress, with a sturdy leather apron with many pockets and a grey scarf tied around her head to keep her hair off her face and out of the way. She had a basket of clean linens on her hip, and was narrowing her eyes at him. He recognized her as one of the two Healers assigned to his, Jack and Bozer’s care, but didn’t know her name. His surprise must have shown on his face, because she gave a wry smile for a moment as she walked closer. ‘We have several Healers who trained or worked in the capital; your reputation precedes you.’

He couldn’t help the sheepish little smirk that appeared on his face at that, before he opened his mouth (not that he really knew what he was going to say – he couldn’t exactly protest, since she _had_ caught him trying to escape…). She cut him off before he could say anything, though, tilting her chin up as she spoke, something fierce in the motion and her eyes, shifting her basket of linens so that she could point at his bed.

Mac sighed yet again, shoulders slumping, and trudged over to the bed. The Healer put down her linens next to the bed, and straightened the covers for him, her expression growing more sympathetic, though no less firm.

‘I know you don’t want to be here, MacGyver, but I can’t let you leave. You have a gash in your forearm that required stitches, have four fractured ribs, internal bruising and took a blow to the head, not to mention your many, many contusions.’ She paused, and gestured to Jack and Bozer. ‘Your friends are in no state to leave the Houses either. You would have had to wait in town for them…’ Her expression grew wry again. ‘…and paid them visits regularly. I expect Sir Dalton would become insufferable if you didn’t.’ That got a little smile out of Mac, and a half-chuckle. Jack _would_ be insufferable. ‘Try and sleep. It’ll at least pass the time.’

Mac toyed with the edge of his blanket, finding comfort and relaxation in keeping his hands busy.

‘I…I _can’t_ sleep.’

‘Would you like a sedative?’ She said that as if she expected him to say no, and was completely unsurprised when he shook his head immediately, and picked up her linens, gesturing to them with her free hand. ‘I can bring you something to read in twenty minutes, after I deal with these.’

He offered her a little smile in thanks, and she turned and walked quickly over to the door.

(Her light brown braid, which emerged from the back of her hair-covering, swung a little with leftover momentum from her turn.)

(He didn’t know why that got such a position of prominence in his mind.)

She closed the door behind her and narrowed her eyes at him again while she did so, clearly warning him off further escape attempts.

As he waited, Mac continued to play with the edge of his blanket, and attempted to work out why the Healer looked familiar, beyond the fact that she’d been caring for him and Jack and Bozer.

(It was a puzzle, a problem to be solved. It made being stuck in the Houses more bearable.)

She returned, by his estimates (usually very accurate), nineteen minutes later, carrying a stack of leather-bound books.

He recognized two volumes by Tesla, and one by Benjamin Franklin, both notable Engineers, in the stack, and he smiled even as he raised a brow in question when she set them down on his nightstand.

She smiled in return, a note of amusement in there, perhaps even something teasing.

‘You’re an Engineer.’ She said it as if that explained everything, which it really did. ‘And your reputation really does proceed you.’ She narrowed her eyes at him yet again as he picked up the first book. ‘Thus…no escaping, or attempting to escape.’

‘Thanks, Mistress Healer.’

It was the formal title for a female Healer. She shook her head at that.

‘Mistress Beth, please.’

He found himself smiling a little wider for a moment, before his expression grew more serious.

‘And I promise I won’t escape or attempt to escape, Mistress Beth.’

His words had weight to them.

(Of course they did. Mac did not break his promises.)

(Why he was _making_ such a promise was a better question.)

(She was clearly a hardworking Healer, dedicated to her patients and their wellbeing, and it’d be a terrible way to repay her. He didn’t want to earn her wrath either; something told him that he wanted to stay on her good side – she might be small and pretty and seemed kind and sweet, but there was definitely something fierce in her eyes and the way that she narrowed them and tilted her chin up.)

Mistress Beth nodded, satisfied, before gesturing to the books, looking a little awkward.

‘If you could, um, please ignore the notes, but leave them where they are, that would be very much appreciated.’

And with that, she left.

Mac’s brow furrowed a little, but he resolved to do as she said.

(It wound up being a bit harder than he thought it’d be.)

(He found himself not able to ignore the notes, not with his curiosity, and wound up reading them.)

(They were in her writing – he recognized it from when she’d been making notes on the blackboard that was in a special holder at the foot of his bed during the day – and were a combination of what had to be her thoughts and notes she’d made of the opinions of Engineers, both the famous authors of the books, and the ones stationed in Lafayette, as well as her parents’ opinions.)

(She appeared to be trying to design a plumbing system that would allow hot water to flow straight out of taps.)

(All three of them – that is, her and her parents – might not be Engineers, but they were clearly very intelligent and had far more than some knowledge of engineering and science.)

(It intrigued him.)

(Greatly.)

(He refused to _really_ think about why.)

* * *

The next day, Mistress Beth was changing Jack’s bandages, while Bozer made odd, disgusted faces as he drank four vials of medicine, and Mac kept reading one of her books, utterly fascinated and lost in the science, occasionally scribbling on a notepad with a pencil (she’d brought him both in the morning to further counteract his boredom), his vials of medicine already absent-mindedly downed and sitting on the nightstand.

There was a knock on the door, and the other Healer who’d been looking after them, Master Farnham, stuck his head in.

‘Beth, there’s a messenger here for you.’

A boy of around eleven stepped inside. He was wearing a Page’s uniform with the Lafayette crest on it, though he hadn’t quite managed to lace up the tunic properly, so it was a little crooked.

He waited rather patiently, shifting a little from side to side, until Mistress Beth had finished with Jack’s bandages and handed him three vials to drink, then spoke as she cleaned her hands with an alcohol-based spray.

‘Lady Bethany, your parents request your presence at the castle. You have visitors from Chicago you need to receive.’

He said it like he was reciting a message given to him.

Meanwhile, Jack and Bozer exchanged a look, then both of them looked at Mac, as if they couldn’t believe he didn’t notice that Mistress Beth was really Lady Bethany, only child of Michael and Caitlyn Taylor, Lord and Lady Lafayette, and the future Lady Lafayette.

(Lafayette was, although a smaller province, important as the rulers of Phoenix had long valued the Lafayette line as senior advisors, since the line was famous for the intellect of their members, their strong moral compasses and being both uninterested in and not very good at the petty political manoeuvring of the Royal Court and nobility.)

(Thus, someone with Mac’s brain really should have recognized the daughter of the Lord and Lady Lafayette earlier.)

(And he was an Engineer, so he doubly should have. Lord Michael was very popular among Engineers, since he was actually one of them.)

(He couldn’t serve in that capacity, of course, since he had a province to run and a King to advise, but he was a qualified Engineer, having trained as one in his youth.)

Mac was kicking himself internally, even as all the pieces clicked into place.

(Lord Lafayette was an Engineer, and well-known to be a brilliant man. Lady Lafayette was a talented Apothecary, and as brilliant as her husband. Children tended to take after their parents.)

(Her notes and her choice of reading material made a lot more sense now.)

At the same time, the Lady in question smiled at the Page.

‘Thank you for the message, Nate.’

He grinned up at her.

‘Thank you, my lady!’

Her smile widened a little, even as her voice grew gently admonishing, in a way that was nearly maternal.

‘Just remember, it’s Mistress Beth in the Houses, not Lady Bethany or my lady, okay?’ She continued, not letting Nate, who looked sheepish, apologize, like she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. ‘Have you eaten lunch, Nate?’ Nate shook his head as she led him towards the door. ‘Run back to the castle and tell Andi that I’ll be there in twenty minutes and ready to receive our guests in an hour. Then, go down to the kitchens and tell Mama Colton that I’m asking her to give you a good lunch suitable for a hardworking, growing boy.’ She and Nate were just outside the door now. Their conversation carried just enough that Mac, Jack and Bozer could hear it, though they all suspected she didn’t intend for them to hear (or expect them to be able to hear) anything said outside the door. The acoustics were just a little quirky and she had just picked the most inopportune spot. ‘How are your mother and sister?’

She said that very gently. There was silence for a moment. When Nate spoke again, his voice was small.

‘Nessa’s all better. Mama says she doesn’t hurt anymore, and I believe her most of the time, and she smiles sometimes.’ He paused again. ‘We’re all glad Dad can’t come back again.’

‘I’m glad too, Nate. Tell Mama Colton to give you dinner for you, Nessa and your mom, too. And tell your mom that I’ll come over to give you all a check-up tomorrow morning.’

‘I will, and thank you, my…uh, Mistress Beth!’

There was the sound of Nate’s footsteps heading down the hall, before Lady Bethany came back inside, to find Mac, Jack and Bozer all looking at her. Bozer looked somewhat awed (not being a Knight or a senior Engineer, he was not used to dealing with nobility at all – the Kingdom’s Spymaster Matty, who was close personal friends with the King, was the previously most important person he’d met, and she wasn’t nobility).

She gave a little sigh, and walked over to Mac’s bed to change the dressing on his arm, looking around at the three of them as she did, her voice firm.

‘What I said to Nate applies to all of you as well. Within these walls, I’m Mistress Beth, _not_ Lady Bethany.’

* * *

One night, a couple of days later, when he was allowed a lot more freedom (though still not allowed to leave the Houses), Mac sat in a courtyard not far from his, Jack and Bozer’s room, leaning against the courtyard wall, lost in memories, staring at the pendant of a necklace.

It was a simple but very beautiful green stone hanging from a leather thong.

* * *

 

_She looked over at him, a little smile on her face, hair wrapped up in a brightly-patterned orange scarf, half-teasing, half-serious._

_He liked both the smile and the scarf far more than he could admit._

_‘This is not going to hurt, is it?’_

_He gave a half-chuckle, shaking his head, smiling too._

_‘No, it won’t. I promise.’_

* * *

 

_They stared at each other, in the little, isolated and very private courtyard, something hanging there between them, eyes sad and wistful but resigned._

_Wishing, perhaps, that things were different, but knowing that they could not be._

_In the end, Nasha broke the silence, with a small, gentle, sad smile. She reached up and removed one of the necklaces around her neck, a simple green stone pendant hanging from a leather thong._

_It didn’t suit her station; too simple, too inexpensive, but she wore it always, because it had great sentimental meaning to her, he assumed._

_So it meant a lot that she hung it around his neck instead._

_‘Take this.’_

_He raised his hand, dared to let it brush against hers for a moment._

_‘Nasha-‘_

_He couldn’t take it, not when it clearly meant so much to her…_

_She shook her head and cut him off._

_‘It is a gift, so that you do not forget me.’_

_It was his turn to shake his head._

_‘I won’t forget you; it’s impossible.’_

_Nasha smiled a little wider and a little softer and a little sadder at that, and raised her hands to tuck the pendant under his shirt, patting it gently after she did._

_‘Well, it cannot hurt.’ He stared at her for a long moment, as if he were trying to memorize her face, as if he hadn’t already. After that moment, Nasha spoke. ‘Oh dah-boh, Angus MacGyver.’ Goodbye, in her language. ‘I wish you great happiness.’_

_He closed his eyes for a breath before responding._

_‘Oh dah-boh, Nasha. I wish you great happiness, too.’_

* * *

Mac was pulled out of his memories by the appearance of Mistress Beth in the courtyard. The Healer took a deep breath as soon as she stepped out of the building, then saw him there, and immediately looked sheepish and apologetic and rather awkward.

‘I’m sorry, I can go if you want to be alone…‘

He shook his head.

‘This courtyard is plenty large for two people. And you’re a Healer; this is your space.’

He did, however, quickly tuck Nasha’s necklace back into his shirt, noting that there was a flash of curiosity in her eyes when it caught her eye for a second.

(She must have seen it before, when he’d been brought into her care. He also figured that she likely recognized it for what it was – they didn’t have this stone in Phoenix, nor did they make their jewellery in this style; this was distinctly from the Southern Kingdom – and would thus be curious about how he came to possess it.)

(She struck him as a very curious person. Anyone who read the books she read and wrote notes like the ones she wrote had to be, surely.)

But she didn’t ask.

Instead, she just shook her head, a little smile on her face, though her voice was firm like it’d been when she’d caught him trying to escape.

‘And you’re a patient; this is your space, too.’

Then, she crossed the courtyard and sat down on a stone bench, staring up at the night sky.

They stayed like that for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts, before curiosity won out, and Mac spoke.

‘Why are you still here?’ She’d been here since noon, when she’d brought medicine for him, Jack and Bozer to drink with their lunch. It was past midnight now. He realized that probably sounded rude, and kicked himself, and reminded himself that she didn’t want to be a Lady when she was here, so wouldn’t be as offended, hopefully. ‘Sorry…I really should have phrased that better.’

She just smiled.

‘I was about to ask you something similar, so if you’ll forgive me, I’ll forgive you!’ He nodded, smiling back, and her expression shifted into something more serious, gesturing to one of the wings of the Houses off the courtyard, the one she’d come out from. ‘I stayed for a difficult birth.’ She read the question on his face before he could voice it, which made her give a little smile. ‘The baby is healthy and doing well, and the mother stable and as well as she could be expected to be. I expect her to make a full recovery.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘Afterwards, I thought I’d come here, for some fresh air, and to have a look at the stars, collect my thoughts…’ She lifted a shoulder again, this time more awkwardly, as if to say, _and, well, here we are._ Mac gave a little nod, and after a moment of hesitation, she continued. ‘Something on your mind?’

He gave a wry, ever-so-slightly bitter smile.

‘There’s _always_ many things on my mind.’

(He knew his mind was a gift. He knew what he could do with it.)

(At the same time, he was acutely aware that like any gift of this nature, there’d been a price attached.)

(Or, perhaps more accurately, prices.)

(He’d had no friends at school until Bozer. He’d been considered weird and dorky and nerdy, still was, and Donnie Sandoz and his gang had chased him and beaten him up and Darlene Martin had shot him down cold when he’d asked her to the Harvest Festival, and the other kids had whispered about him behind his back or even in front of him…)

(And his mind essentially-constantly whirred with thoughts. Nearly nothing could stop that tornado, and that made it too easy for him to get lost in the maze of his mind, and made it very hard to sleep at times.)

(He strongly suspected that Mistress Beth would understand that.)

She just nodded, the empathy and understanding on her face and in her eyes pretty much confirming that suspicion.

He continued, for some reason, absent-mindedly toying with the hem of his long brown leather Engineer’s coat.

(It had many pockets, was fire-retardant, and was very, very durable. It was a signature of the Order of Engineers, a symbol, just like their Engineer’s knives, which weren’t really knives – at least not _just_ knives – but many multi-purpose tools in one.)

‘We live in dark times.’

That particular thought, and all the thoughts associated with it, the fears and the worries and the burning _need_ he felt to succeed in his quest to protect the Kingdom (his home and all the innocent lives it held, and his friends and his family), had been the central one for months.

Mistress Beth just nodded again, and spoke, her voice quiet but sure.

‘And war is coming.’ That made him look up at her. She looked frightened, but was also trying not to show it with fierce determination. She continued in explanation. ‘And when it comes, us Healers will go to war too.’

That had that same fierce determination in it, full of purpose and duty.

If war did come, the Kingdom’s soldiers and Knights would not be the only ones to fight.

The Engineers would too, Mac knew. They weren’t really warriors, though they were trained to defend themselves, but they were very useful in battle nonetheless.

Matty and her Spies would go to war too.

And, he realized, so would the Scribes and Secretaries and Cooks and Farriers and Blacksmiths and Healers needed to keep an army running.

And they would go without any of the training that the others had, likely without weapons, too.

Mistress Beth, being Lady Bethany of Lafayette, could stay in Castle Lafayette, protected and as safe as one could be in this situation, but from the fierce determination in her voice, would never allow it.

(If her father locked her in the castle dungeons in an attempt to prevent her from doing her duty, her job, she would find a way out, Mac was convinced.)

He looked over at her, hoped she could see the respect and admiration there. She clearly could, because her cheeks flushed a little and she ducked her head.

‘It’s my job. I took oaths.’

He shook his head.

‘It doesn’t make you less brave, or noble.’

* * *

They sat there in silence for a little while longer, comfortably, before he yawned. Loudly. Several times.

Mistress Beth got up and crossed her arms, looking very firmly and in a very Healer-y way at him.

‘You need to sleep.’ He hadn’t had a full, good night’s sleep for weeks. He strongly suspected that she knew that, somehow. She definitely knew that he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he came to the Houses of Healing, at least. ‘I know you don’t want any drugs, but I have an idea.’ She started walking towards one of the entrances to the Houses proper, motioning for him to follow her, her voice growing wry. ‘It tastes much better than your medications, I promise.’

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Mac was sitting in his bed, finishing the last of a mug of warm milk spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, prepared in the Houses’ kitchens in front of his eyes by Mistress Beth, seemingly so that he could be reassured that there were no sedatives in it.

He yawned again, and feeling very sleepy and calm, he put the empty mug on the nightstand, and lay down, readjusting the covers.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

Next thing he knew, it was well past dawn and Jack and Bozer were clamouring for their breakfast and he was feeling more well-rested than he had in weeks.

* * *

The night before he, Jack and Bozer were due to leave the Houses to proceed onwards on their quest, Mac was leaning against the courtyard wall again, playing with his Engineer’s knife.

Beth (she’d stopped being Mistress Beth in his head several days ago, though he refused to examine why) walked into the courtyard like she was looking for him, holding one of the Tesla books she’d loaned him.

(He’d returned the books that morning.)

She was also holding a note written in his handwriting.

(He’d been unable to resist adding his own thoughts, suggestions and ideas to her half-formed plans to install a hot-water-dispensing plumbing system in the Houses of Healing.)

Beth stopped in front of him, and glanced from him to the note and back again repeatedly, like she couldn’t quite think of what to say.

Mac could only give a sheepish little smirk.

‘I know you wanted me to ignore them, but…’ He gestured vaguely. ‘…the ideas kept hitting me, and I…I thought I could help.’ He paused, looking more sheepish. ‘I’m _really_ not good with rules.’

She gave a little laugh, shaking her head, and holding up the note.

‘These are _brilliant_ , MacGyver!’ She paused and hesitated for a moment, looking a little awkward, before catching his gaze and speaking again. ‘If…’ Her expression shifted a little, that fierce determination of hers appearing again. When she spoke, there was faith in her words, but also a lot of hope. They were weighty in some way that he couldn’t quite fully describe, too. ‘… _when_ we no longer live in dark times, could you help me with this project?’ She paused again, looking a little awkward once more, waving the hand holding the note vaguely. ‘Well, more than you already have, anyway, and by correspondence if you’re busy elsewhere, which I assume is probably likely…’

She trailed off, definitely awkwardly, self-consciously, with a bit of a flush to her cheeks, and Mac just smiled.

(He ignored the voice in his head that pointed out she was even prettier and really adorable when she blushed.)

‘I’ll help you, I promise.’

That felt weighty in that same not-quite-fully-describable way too. It got him a bright, happy smile like a child’s on Yule morning.

(The voice in his head – which refused to be silenced – pointed out that that was even more adorable and made her look even more beautiful than the blushing.)

‘Thank you, MacGyver.’

He gave a little grin that was halfway a smirk, raising a shoulder.

‘I can never resist an engineering challenge. Especially for a good cause.’

That made her smile widen even more, and they stood there for a moment, looking at each other. It was probably long enough to be awkward.

Beth’s eyes lingered ever-so-slightly on Nasha’s necklace, which was hanging out of his shirt.

Seized by some kind of impulse he could not explain, Mac sat down on the courtyard’s cobblestones and raised the pendant with a hand. Beth followed him, sitting down next to him on the ground.

‘Her name is Nasha.’

She gave a little head-shake, expression apologetic.

‘Just because I’m curious doesn’t mean you have to-‘

‘I know. I want to.’ He didn’t pause to consider the why, just kept going. It felt cathartic; he’d only ever spoken to Jack and Bozer about this, and they’d been there, so he’d never had to share the full story. Her presence was oddly comforting, too. ‘Nine months ago, the ruler of the Southern Kingdom sent an envoy, his brother.’ Beth nodded; that was something that she, as a grown-up Lord’s daughter who served as one of her father’s advisors, had known. ‘He brought his daughter with him, to assist in the negotiations, as she spoke our language fluently.’ He gave a fond little smile, heavily tinged with sadness. ‘She’s very clever, and very kind, brave, strong and beautiful…’

* * *

‘…six months ago, she had to go home to get married.’ The envoy had stayed three months, along with his entourage, and much progress on a stronger relationship between the Kingdoms had been made. But, as he’d excitedly, happily explained, his daughter was to be married to the son of a senior Lord who was a trusted, valued advisor to his brother, a son who was a trusted advisor himself, so they had to go home. ‘He’s a good man, a close friend…’ He swallowed, the memory of the look on Nasha’s face when they’d said goodbye coming to the forefront of his mind. He held up the necklace again. ‘She gave me this before she left.’

After a moment of hesitation, Beth reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently after a moment, then just letting it stay there, the touch warm and comforting.

‘I’m sorry, MacGyver.’ A common-born Engineer and a betrothed foreign Princess falling in love was always going to be doomed. If not for indulgent loving parents and a family tradition of marrying outside nobility and, well, not generally listening to Court gossips, her parents’ love would have been doomed, after all, and an in-some-ways minor Lord and the talented Apothecary daughter of a very successful Apothecary – commoners but wealthy, influential ones – were far closer together, had far fewer barriers between them. She hesitated a moment longer, then squeezed his shoulder again. ‘I think I’d have liked her; I wish we’d have had the chance to meet when she was here.’

She supposed there was a good chance that Princess Nasha would be back in the future, as an envoy.

She suspected MacGyver didn’t want to be reminded of that (and the husband who’d surely come with her) right now.

(And that was assuming that the Kingdom didn’t wind up falling to Murdoc – if MacGyver and Sir Jack and Bozer didn’t succeed – which was something _she_ didn’t want to think about.)

That got a little smile out of Mac, some light in his eyes.

‘You two would get along _too_ well.’ The smile grew more wry. ‘I would never be able to even _think_ about escaping the Houses again.’

* * *

In the morning, bright and early, as Mac, Jack and Bozer finished off their breakfast and finished packing their knapsacks and bedrolls, Beth walked in, carrying three small leather rolls.

After greeting them, she put one of the rolls down on a nightstand and undid the clasp, unrolling it to reveal an array of vials, a small pot of salve, a tiny leather pouch and a frankly impressive quantity of bandages, all tucked into compartments that seemed to be custom-made for them.

(The vials, for example, were tucked into fitted padded pockets.)

Mac, Jack and Bozer examined the medical kit, Mac looking rather impressed, Bozer somewhere between impressed and astounded, and Jack looking like he wanted to ask if this was magic, but thankfully managed to restrain the impulse.

(Beth was _really, really_ good at packing.)

The Healer pointed out the various sections.

‘There’s a suture kit, salve for preventing infection, and medicines for pain and blood loss…’ She pulled out the vials to show that they were neatly labelled. ‘…as well as all the bandages that I could fit in there.’

She rolled the kit back up and handed it to Mac, before handing the other two to Jack and Bozer. They attached them to their packs, and when Mac had finished securing his, he turned back to face her.

‘Thank you.’

Jack crossed his arms and shook his head with very long-suffering, but affectionate, exasperation, though there was gratefulness in his eyes.

‘Yeah, with all the pickles our boy gets himself into, he’s gonna need it.’

Bozer grinned at her, pointing at Mac.

‘Don’t worry, Mistress Beth, I’ll make sure he uses it.’

She smiled at all of them.

(She hid it well, but they all swore there was worry in her eyes.)

‘Good luck, and safe journey.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like the adaptation of canon elements to this AU so far. This is partly so long because Mac/Beth is the central couple for the first section of this story, so it required more set-up. Also, I’ve found writing Mac’s point of view tends to need more words that writing other people’s, because he just has a lot of thoughts…
> 
> In other news – I made pastrami on Monday and was honestly disappointed. To be fair, I used commercially-made corned beef and don’t have a smoker, so had to make do with the slow cooker and the oven. Texturally, it was really good, but it was just super-salty, so now I’m working on recipes to mitigate the saltiness. Then again, I’m a better cook than Mac (quite substantially, if I can say so myself), but a much worse cook than Bozer, so maybe that’s the issue…
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Now, the secret to a good pastrami is all in the rub…’


	4. Chapter 4

**THE PRESENT**

**THE CAGE WITCH’S COTTAGE**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

Bozer whiffled, just like he did as a human, rolling over slightly as scenes that he did not recognize, had never experienced, drifted through his mind…

* * *

He was at the Midsummer Festival, dressed in a very snazzy new outfit and drinking beer, watching the dancing.

(Mac was dancing with, of all people, Mistress Beth/Lady Bethany. Neither of them were particularly good at it – dancing was one of six things that Mac was _bad_ at; he didn’t really have rhythm – but seemed to be having a lot of fun.)

(He was also positive that he heard Jack’s voice carrying over the crowd, telling one of his really long-winded stories. This one appeared to be about the time he rescued Mac heroically…well, one of the many times, anyway. He was pretty sure he heard a woman laugh at one of the many diversions that Jack’s tale took, and tell him to get back on track, voice affectionately teasing.)

He wasn’t sure what happened next (it got more than a little blurry), but then a woman was tipping a mug of water over his head, and he was spluttering as she spun on her heel and strode off.

Bozer didn’t even remember what she looked like, aside from the fact that she was really, really beautiful.

* * *

‘What is _that?’_

The woman’s brow furrowed in question as she mashed potatoes in the kitchen of Bozer’s cottage, which he shared with Mac.

Bozer grinned, and continued to lovingly carve slices of delicious, juicy meat off the freshly-cooked (but rested, of course!) side of beef.

‘This is pastrami!’ He said that as if it explained everything. She raised her brows and nodded in a way that said, _and_? Bozer continued, with more than a bit of a flourish in his voice. ‘It’s a Bozer family recipe; my great-grandfather invented it, and let me tell you, it is _the best thing you will ever taste_!’

She looked sceptical, and he just grinned in a way that was nearly a smirk and handed her a slice.

She took it, took a bite, and then made a happy little noise in the back of her throat, swallowing and taking another bite.

Bozer smirked.

‘Now, the secret to a good pastrami is all in the rub…’

She sat down at the kitchen counter, stealing another piece of pastrami as she listened to his chatter, occasionally giving a snort or raising an eyebrow at him or chipping in with a wry or snarky comment.

Her hair was dark and quite curly, a little wild…

* * *

Bozer was panicking.

Tonight was _the_ night, the night he’d been working towards for, debatably, his entire life.

The grand opening of his restaurant.

(It’d long been one of two dreams of his – the other was to become a famous playwright, which was still a work in progress. He was, however, sure that _The Tale of MacGyver_ , an account of his best friend’s life to date, with some creative license taken, was going to be a hit.)

And so, he was really nervous, worried that something would go wrong.

The woman reached out and put her hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with him.

‘Calm down, Bozer.’ She gestured to the three sides of beef he was holding on a large metal tray. ‘The pastrami is gonna be delicious, just like everything else, just like it always is.’ Bozer smiled and preened a little at that, which made the woman roll her eyes affectionately. She let go of his shoulders, expression and voice growing teasing as she punched him lightly in the arm. ‘Just don’t distract all of your assistants by telling them all of your stories…’

Bozer was self-aware enough to look a little sheepish at that.

(He’d told them all the stories behind each recipe – which was really important so they understood the _emotion_ and _significance_ behind each one so could cook it properly – while training them.)

She had really interesting eyes; a mixture of hazel and grey with perhaps a touch of green, in certain lights…

* * *

It was Yule, and Bozer was alone in the kitchen of his restaurant (it was closed for a private, family function for the day).

He put the pastrami into the special oven Mac had created for cooking it in only half an hour, instead of it taking half a day, then stuck his head out through the pass.

His best friend was crouching on the ground, talking to a little boy of about three who looked exactly like him except for the nose.

‘…mistletoe used to be considered a symbol of friendship, which is probably why people kiss under it now.’

(The little boy was making a face, clearly because he thought kissing was _icky_.)

Meanwhile, Mistress Beth, her belly swollen, looking like she had only a couple of months to go, was eating the snacks that Bozer had set out for the guests (well, more accurately, a couple of guests – normally, he didn’t like to fill the family up on mere snacks while waiting for Yule dinner, but providing plentiful snacks, he’d realized, was necessary this year if he wanted to stay alive).

She was also talking to the Spymaster Matty, telling what sounded like a funny story about one of the many inventions Mac had created during her first pregnancy, as an outgrowth of him being powerless to help with the actual gestating of their child.

(Mac didn’t do well with not being able to help.)

The door of the restaurant swung open, and his wife came in, their five-month-old daughter wrapped warmly and securely held to her torso with a sling.

She made a beeline for the snacks, taking a piece of cheese and some bread and popping it into her mouth.

(Bozer had thought that the voracious appetite would go away – or at least reduce – after their daughter was born, but he’d quickly learned that it was here to stay until little Hedy was weaned.)

(Feeding a baby took a lot of energy, just like growing one, which made sense now that he thought about it.)

Bozer checked on the pastrami to make sure it wasn’t on fire, before exiting the kitchen to join the others with a fond, happy smile on his face. He ducked to kiss his wife’s temple, and then his daughter’s forehead, smile widening.

He straightened up and shook his head as he picked up on Jack’s voice, talking loudly with a female voice, as the two of them approached the restaurant.

‘…Mac better have fixed that whole catching-fire thing; I didn’t sign up to be a firefighter, I signed up for Yule dinner!’

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

**THE CAGE WITCH’S COTTAGE**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS**

* * *

When Mac, Jack and Bozer woke up, oddly quite suddenly, the fire had gone out, and The Cage Witch was nowhere to be seen.

However, each of them had a bowl of food in front of them, containing cubes of raw meat and a little bit of boiled pumpkin, as well as a bowl of water.

Jack eyed his food critically.

‘I dunno, I like my steak rare, but this don’t even have a char on it…’

Mac rolled his eyes as he drank some water, raising his head to gesture at the bowl of food in front of him.

‘This is an extremely well-balanced and healthy meal for us, given our current biology.’

With that, he took a bite.

Bozer and Jack exchanged a glance. Then, with a shrug, they both enthusiastically dug into their food.

(It took a lot to put Jack – or Bozer, for that matter – off his feed.)

(Besides, it smelled really, really, really good.)

(It turned out that it tasted really good too.)

* * *

When they’d finished eating, the empty bowls vanished, and The Cage Witch’s bedroom door opened and she stepped out.

She looked very seriously at them.

‘Seven nights on _her_ hearth, and you’ll be yourselves again.’ She put a lot of emphasis on _her._ She smiled in a way that was slightly twisted to the side, like she knew something that they didn’t. ‘Good luck.’

She waved her hands, and her cottage vanished as the world went black…

* * *

When the world re-solidified and re-appeared, Mac, Jack and Bozer were standing in the middle of a highway.

They stood there, blinking and shaking out their limbs for a moment, recovering from their magical transportation.

Mac recovered all of his wits first, and trotted over to the stone marker sitting on the side of the road.

(All highways in Phoenix had these markers spaced at regular intervals, to aid travellers.)

He spoke as he walked.

‘Do you know who you need to find, and where to find her?’

‘I don’t even know who she is! I’ve never seen her in my life!’

Bozer sounded a little panicked, unsurprisingly. Mac turned around to face his best friend, while Jack nudged him in the shoulder comfortingly.

‘We’ll find her, Boze. I promise.’

Jack nudged him again.

‘Yeah, we ain’t gonna leave you high and dry, brother!’ Bozer managed a little grin at the two of them, and there was silence for a moment, as the two younger men (dogs?) looked expectantly at Jack. The older man (dog?) sighed, before speaking, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and with a note of guilt in it, as well as something sad and sore, like a wound that still ached a touch. ‘I know who to find…but I don’t know where to find her.’ Mac and Bozer exchanged a glance, as Jack shifted the attention off himself. ‘Mac, you know where you gotta go?’

Hopefully, he did, so that _one_ of them did, so they weren’t wandering aimlessly around Phoenix.

Mac nodded, gesturing at the road marker, which indicated that they were in the province of Lafayette, not too far from Castle Lafayette and the town that surrounded it. Jack and Bozer trotted over to take a look, as Mac spoke.

‘I need to head ten miles up the road.’ He paused, expression and voice growing wry. ‘Getting _into_ the castle is going to be the tricky bit.’

Jack and Bozer took a moment to parse all of that.

Then, they turned around with astonishingly-identical smirks on their faces, like hunters who’d just cornered their prey.

‘I knew it, brother!’ Jack gestured to Bozer. ‘I told him so!’

Bozer was grinning ridiculously, but nudged Jack none-too-gently.

‘Yeah, after _I_ told you first! I got an eye for this sort of thing, see!’

_Exactly how they’ve made the jump from ‘this is the woman who can break this curse for you’ to ‘there is something romantic going on here’, I don’t know._

_Jack and Bozer’s brains are occasionally a mystery to me. Honestly, maybe more than occasionally._

_I suppose there is something rather intimate about spending a week on a woman’s hearth, and the specificity of the situation. In the old fairytales we heard as kids, this sort of thing usually ends in a wedding._

_And…well, it’s a mountain out of a molehill, not nothing._

Mac watched the two of them bicker and simultaneously try to plan his hypothetical future wedding for a moment, shaking his head with very long-suffering affection, before speaking with an internal sigh.

‘I don’t even know if trying to break the curse is the right thing to do.’ That made Bozer and Jack stop, and stare at him. Mac lifted a shoulder. ‘She’s a Lady.’

Nowadays, spending seven nights in an ordinary woman’s bedchamber (even in her bed, and not on the hearth), didn’t necessarily have to lead to a wedding, like it would have in the past.

(It often did, but that was due to couples choosing to marry, rather than suitors being held at sword-point by irate fathers.)

However, the nobility were much more uptight and old-fashioned about these things.

Mac’s two closest friends started practically talking over each other, both insistent.

‘You’re a hero of the Kingdom!’

‘And you’re _you_ , bro!’

‘Lord Lafayette would be happy for you to court his daughter!’

‘Or marry her!’

‘What’re you gonna do?

‘Stay a dog for the rest of your life?’

Mac had actually been considering that, in the interest of not forcing Beth into a marriage she didn’t want and had no part in the events leading to whatsoever.

(At least _he_ knew what the possible outcome was; she’d have no clue about the potential consequences of taking in a stray dog.)

Then again, it was also absurd and not something that he wanted to do, at all. It’d really limit his ability to do his job, and to live his life.

(He already missed having opposable thumbs.)

He also suspected that Beth would be very angry with him if he didn’t try and break this curse and was stuck as a dog, and not because of the promise, either.

He _had_ met her parents, at one of the Engineers’ Annual Conferences a couple of years ago, and while he, Jack and Bozer were recuperating just a couple of months ago. And he had heard plenty about them, since Lord Lafayette and Engineers in general got along very well.

(Even Engineers liked to gossip.)

Lord and Lady Lafayette were very reasonable and very clever people, who really loved their daughter and wanted the best for her.

They wouldn’t force her into something that’d make her miserable, and they wouldn’t have him executed or exiled or the like.

Mac gave a little nod, and decisively started walking towards Castle Lafayette.

He would try to explain the situation to Beth, if she could understand his speech, which he doubted.

(Jack, Bozer and The Cage Witch could, but he suspected the former was because they were also cursed, and the latter was because she was a witch.)

If he couldn’t, then he would give a very good explanation afterwards (he had more than a week to come up with it), taking all the blame and doing everything he could to ensure she wasn’t forced into something she didn’t want.

As they followed Mac, Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance.

They had a sneaking suspicion (which was perhaps more of a hope, a wish) that there was a silver lining to this curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Looks like you’re got yourself a champion.’


	5. Chapter 5

**LAFAYETTE TOWN**

* * *

That night, Mac rooted around an alleyway, looking for food and anything that he, Jack and Bozer could use for warmth.

The three of them had found an old abandoned cottage on the outskirts of town to use as shelter, but even though it was April, winter was still stubbornly in the air, likely courtesy of Murdoc.

(It’d only been two days since his defeat, so it was unsurprising that spring was taking a while to finally come and the nights were still cold.)

They’d need blankets of some sort, or a fire, but without opposable thumbs, safely lighting and safely maintaining a fire was going to be very difficult.

He dug deeper into the trash can.

* * *

Beth fought the urge to bite her lip in worry as Ralph Kastrati, the son of the wealthiest merchant in Lafayette, and his two friends, also sons of rich merchants, approached her as she walked home after her shift at the Houses.

All three were clearly drunk, and reeked of alcohol, despite the fact that it was only 10:30.

‘Hey, sweetheart!’

Beth ignored him.

(Ralph was one of her suitors, albeit _much_ unwanted.)

(He did nothing productive, just drank and flirted with barmaids and tavern girls and, honestly, anyone in a skirt who crossed his path.)

(She and her parents – honestly, everyone, really – were all aware that his interest in her was only for her status.)

(He’d recently sent her a _very_ expensive necklace as a courting gift. Beth had sent it back, the universal sign of rejection. He had refused to accept the rejected necklace, insisting that _of course_ she _really_ loved him, what with him giving her gifts like that, she was just playing hard to get.)

(After consulting with Jill Morgan, a Scribe who was knowledgeable about everything from politics, both domestic and international, to law, etiquette and even science, who’d been recruited by the Kingdom’s Spymaster herself, was only Beth’s age and was a personal friend of hers, as well as her mother’s secretary Andi, who was also very good at this sort of thing, Beth had donated the necklace to an orphanage in Ralph’s name, and they’d auctioned it off to raise money to build a new wing to house more orphans, plus feed and clothe them all.)

(Murdoc’s shadow war had sadly left many orphaned children. That necklace might as well be used to help them.)

Ralph’s whole face changed, growing stormy, when she didn’t return his greeting.

‘Oh, I see how it is!’

His friends chipped in.

‘You think you’re too good for the likes of us!’

‘Newsflash!’

‘You’re practically a spinster!’

‘And not even that pretty!’

‘And you think you’re _so_ smart…’

They kept advancing on her, and instinctively, Beth backed away.

She cursed internally, realizing that they’d backed her into an alleyway. The smirks on their faces showed that drunk or not, that had been deliberate.

Her brain whirred as she tried to work out how she could get out of this.

(There’d been several people in the street who must have seen or heard at least some of what had happened, and there were windows into the alleyway from the homes above the shops on either side, but she knew she probably couldn’t count on the bystanders or the shopkeepers for help.)

(She and her parents were popular, especially here in Lafayette Town, but money talked, and Ralph Kastrati and his friends were wealthier than her parents. No commoner wanted to get into a fight with them.)

(Though, she’d seen a couple of the bystanders take off in the direction of the nearest Town Guard post, but it would take the Guard at least ten minutes to arrive.)

Beth reached into one of the pockets of the leather Healer’s apron she wore, hand closing around a vial, grabbing another vial from a pocket on the opposite side of her apron with her other hand, as Ralph and his friends got very, very close, highly unpleasant smirks on their faces…

Ralph reached out for her as her back hit the back wall of the alleyway, but before his fingers could close around her wrist, there was a loud clattering sound, and one of the trash cans on the side of the alleyway tipped over and rolled straight into the back of his legs, knocking the drunk man off-balance. Two seconds later, another trash can was pushed over, coating one of his friends in something foul-smelling.

Immediately after that, there was a growling sound reminiscent of a wolf, and then a four-legged, furry shape launched itself over Ralph’s non-stinky friend, landing on Ralph himself.

Beth took advantage of that distraction to quickly combine the two vials she was clutching and lob the combined mixture at a far wall.

When the mixture struck the stones, it exploded, releasing a quick burst of heat and a lot of noise and some sparks.

Ralph and his two friends, now covered in trash and very much shaken, took off at a run.

The furry shape pursued them all the way to the end of the alleyway, growling, as if to make sure they were really gone, as Beth slumped against the wall, still breathing hard, but very relieved.

Then, she walked forward so that she was halfway down the alley, still ten feet or so from the furry shape.

She, unlike Ralph and his friends, not being drunk and being notably more observant than they were, knew that her rescuer was _not_ a wolf.

(She’d caught a flash of golden fur more than once or twice.)

Beth crouched down and held a hand out to the dog.

* * *

Mac, now sure that that the three drunk men would not be back, turned around, and trotted over to Beth, nudging her hand with his nose in a way that he hoped was comforting.

He also tried to talk to her, reassure her, but from her reaction, all she could hear was little barks and yips.

‘...what a good, clever, noble boy! Thank you!’ He could not help but wag his tail and close his eyes in bliss as she scratched under his chin, opening them again when she moved on to stroking the fur on his neck, then ruffling it. Beth must have noticed his lack of collar, and she glanced over at the trash that he’d been rooting through, before she stroked his ruff of fur again. ‘You don’t have a home, do you?’

He hesitated for a moment, guessing that if he told her he didn’t, as best as he could, anyway, she’d take him home with her.

Jack and Bozer would worry when he didn’t return to their abandoned cottage, but they also knew he was really good at getting out of a sticky situation, and that there was a chance he’d gotten an opening like the one he’d just received…

Besides, Jack and Bozer were, despite occasional appearances, very capable of taking care of themselves, and the sooner he were human again, the sooner he could help them get changed back.

_And my grandfather always said, never look a gift horse in the mouth._

So, he shook his head, his ‘no’ coming out as a low whine, tail dropping automatically.

Beth made a sympathetic little noise, and scratched behind his ears.

‘Well, you did rescue me, so the least I can do is give you somewhere warm to sleep, and something to eat.’ She eyed his grubby coat (digging in trash was a dirty job, literally). ‘And a bath, not necessarily in that order…’

* * *

Mac followed Beth through the castle gates, and into a side entrance of the castle, which led to a small chamber that opened out onto a large courtyard with an array of washtubs and a clothesline going around three of the sides.

She walked into the courtyard and lit a fire under one of the washtubs, before filling it with water. Then, she walked back into the laundry chamber, and grabbed a cake of soap and a vial of flea-killer, penning a quick note for the washerwomen.

She walked back out into the courtyard, tested the water temperature, then dumped in the flea-killer and waited a couple of minutes, before putting out the fire.

Meanwhile, Mac groaned internally.

_I have no objections to taking a bath. Personal hygiene is important, and I really don’t want fleas._

_Unfortunately, this is just the first in a long line of inevitable awkward, uncomfortable, inappropriate, weird and creepy events that are going to occur in the next week, all because as far as Beth knows, I’m a friendly Golden Retriever._

_You know, I never considered the implications of having your species misidentified._

_In hindsight, given that it’s occurred, maybe I should have._

_In my defence, this did seem to be a near-impossibility. Then again, they always do, until they happen._

However, once the fire was out and Beth seemed happy with the water temperature, he leapt up onto a stone bench next to the tub, and jumped into the water, trying not to splash her.

He ducked himself under to get his head wet, then stood still and let her soap up his coat.

‘...good boy…it is much nicer to be clean, isn’t it?’

* * *

Once he was mostly-dry, Beth led him to the castle kitchens, where a dark-skinned woman of around Jack’s age with her hair in many thin braids, wearing a brooch that marked her as the Cook, was bossing around a couple of assistants, finishing the last of the preparations for the next day.

The Cook smiled at Beth when she came through the door.

‘Hi, Mama.’

The Cook, Mama, gave a little shake of her head.

‘Hi, sugar.’ She gestured at the clock. ‘Thought I might have to send my Billy out to find you.’

Beth raised a shoulder.

‘I…was delayed.’

Mama clearly didn’t buy her attempt at nonchalance, but with the assistants still around, didn’t push the issue.

‘Are you hungry?’

Beth gave a little smile, and shook her head, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

‘I’ll just take this, but could you give me something for him, please?’

She gestured at Mac, who was sitting obediently at the entrance to the kitchen.

Mama looked from the dog to Beth, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh, you owe me a story.’

* * *

A few minutes later, Mac was happily digging into a bowl of meat scraps with a couple of cubes of stale bread soaked in pan juices in front of the fire, and the Cook, whose name was apparently Mama Colton, was setting a mug of chamomile tea in front of Beth.

Mama sat down herself next to the younger woman, her own cup of tea in hand.

‘Tell Mama what _really_ happened.’

Beth took a sip of her tea, staring at her mug for a moment.

‘Ralph Kastrati and his friends were drunk and…cornered me.’ Her voice shook a little for a moment, before she swallowed and continued, gesturing at Mac. ‘He came to my rescue.’

Mama’s eyes narrowed, and her hand went to the concealed dagger in her skirt.

Beth might not have told her everything, but Mama had known her since she was knee high to a grasshopper, and she knew it all, could read it across her face.

‘Again? That boy and his little friends need a real talking-to! Billy, Jessie, Frank and I’ll have a little chat with him-‘

‘ _Please_ don’t, Mama…’

(It’d become _hideously_ politically messy – and probably end unpleasantly for the Coltons.)

At the news that this was not the first time they’d behaved that way towards her, Mac raised his head from his dinner, and expressed the fact that he found that utterly unacceptable.

It came out as a growl.

(Which wasn’t too far removed from how he’d react as a human, perhaps, considering the surprisingly-strong wave of protective anger that had surged through him. No-one should behave the way Kastrati and his friends had, and he would always come to the aid of the victim of such behaviour…but he was angrier than he should have been about it.)

(Maybe the change in form had given him some more animalistic instincts.)

( _Or, maybe it’s something else,_ said a voice in his head that sounded too much like Jack for his peace of mind. Mac told that voice to shut up.)

Mama Colton looked over at him, then smiled.

‘Looks like you’re got yourself a champion.’

Beth gave a little laugh, nodded, and reached over to scratch behind his ears.

* * *

After he’d finished eating, and she’d finished her apple and her tea, Beth led Mac up two flights of stairs, into what was clearly a private wing of the castle.

She led him through a door and into what had to be a spacious suite of chambers.

On the left side, there were two doors, one open and leading into a reasonably-sizeable chamber full of bookshelves, and the other closed, presumably leading into a bathroom. There was a dressing screen hiding the back left corner, with a wardrobe visible over the top, and half a dresser emerging from the left.

Against the middle of the back wall, there was a four-poster bed, with a nightstand and a rug on either side. Stacked neatly on one of the nightstands were several books and a couple of notebooks. There was a bookshelf next to each nightstand, the books neatly organized into sections by content, then alphabetized within those categories.

On the right side, there was a set of French doors leading out onto a balcony that appeared to be covered in an array of healing herbs in labelled pots, some inside a miniature greenhouse. There was a big desk in the front right corner, with neat stacks of books, notebooks and paper on it, as well as a mug containing writing implements. In the back right corner, there was a reading nook with a rug on the floor, a built-in bench with several cushions and a blanket on it, and a small ottoman.

And next to the door that led into the hallway, directly in front of the bed, there was a fireplace with a well-crafted stone hearth.

All in all, despite the large space, it was a cosy, comfortable room.

As he looked around, took in his new surroundings, Beth took off her boots and put them in a cubby by the door, hanging up her Healer’s apron on a hook above the cubby.

Then, she smiled down at him, and grabbed a log from the pile of firewood next to the fireplace, tossing it into the low-burning fire and stoking it with the poker. She walked over to the chest at the foot of her bed, opened it, and pulled out a couple of blankets, folding them into thirds and setting them out in front of the fire, far enough so that they weren’t likely to ignite, close enough to take advantage of the warmth. She patted the blankets while facing him.

‘You can sleep on these, boy, until I can get a proper bed made for you.’

(She hadn’t exactly intended to take in the stray when she brought him home with her, but after her conversation with Mama, thought it’d be best for both of them to adopt him. He seemed to have really taken to her, and seemed very protective. She could probably use a guard, at least for a little while, until Ralph’s anger burned out, but didn’t want to take one of the Lafayette Knights or Castle Guards or Town Guards – she tried to be as normal and ordinary a Healer as possible. But some of the other Healers, particularly the women, had a faithful dog that accompanied them through town when they had very late or very early shifts. And by making him her pet, she could protect him from any retribution that Ralph or his father or his friends or their fathers might seek to dole out; dogs protected their masters or mistresses, and he hadn’t caused any lasting harm to the three drunk friends, after all.)

He gave a grateful yip in thanks, wagging his tail, and then settled down on the blankets.

Beth smiled a little wider, rubbed his back for a moment, and then got up and grabbed a nightgown out of her chest of drawers and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

When she walked out of the bathroom, she was carrying her Healer’s uniform in a basket, which she placed outside her bedchamber, and wearing a nightgown, which thankfully had sleeves and fell to mid-calf.

(Still, Mac tried his best not to look.)

After putting down her laundry basket, Beth crouched down next to him and gave his back a rub again, a soft little smile on his face.

(People really became attached to dogs unreasonably quickly.)

(He’d known that empirically – Archimedes had become his friend even faster than Bozer, which was saying a lot, considering how he and Bozer had become friends.)

(It was, however, weird from the other side.)

‘Goodnight, boy.’

He wagged his tail lazily and yipped up at her.

Beth’s smile widened a little, and with one last pat, she got up and got into her bed, and he curled up into an even comfier position, closed his eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am going to put Mac through some awkward, weird and uncomfortable situations. What’s the point of changing someone’s species if you can’t do that? :P Ralph Kastrati is a canon character (I think he’s from the second-ever episode, or the third?), he was the spoiled and annoying hedge fund guy that Jack and Mac had to retrieve from Indonesia (?). 
> 
> I’m changing this to a Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday (Australian time) posting schedule, mostly because of its unpopularity and because I’ve got another story that I plan to start posting next week – hint: it’s a ‘vale’ or a ‘farewell’ of sorts for the character of Jack and involves my great love of AUs (lots and lots of AUs!).
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Careful, brother. Next thing you know, she’ll be tying ribbons in your fur and giving you fancy haircuts!’


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, Mac ate a third of the breakfast Beth gave him, and then attempted to work out how he could pick up the bowl containing the other two-thirds of his breakfast to take to Jack and Bozer.

It did _not_ go well.

He _really_ missed being bipedal and having opposable thumbs.

He was still trying and failing when Beth walked into the courtyard, a tray with oatmeal and fruit on it in her hands.

She saw him trying to pick up the bowl, and frowning, put down her breakfast tray on a bench, and walked over, crouching down in front of him.

‘What’s the matter, boy?’ She tilted her head to the left a little, before realization crossed her face. ‘Do you have friends who need something to eat too?’

He nodded, and yipped out a ‘yes’.

She smiled, and reached out and scratched under his chin.

‘You’re a very, very good boy.’ She tousled the fur on the side of his neck. ‘Finish your breakfast; I’ll get you more food for your friends after I finish mine, and then we’ll work out how you can take it to them…’ She tilted her head to the left again, thinking out-loud. ‘Do you think you can undo a simple knot?’

* * *

An hour later, Beth, with Mac, holding a bundle of food in his mouth, and Billy Colton, Mama’s bounty hunter son, walking alongside her, reached the entrance of the Houses of Healing.

(Billy had fallen in with her as she left the castle gates, with the excuse that Mama had an errand for him to run that just happened to go past the Houses.)

(Beth clearly hadn’t believed him, but hadn’t protested.)

(Mac suspected that the incident of the night before had shaken her more than she was willing to admit out-loud, but that she was very, very determined to continue her work and not let it stop her.)

Billy grinned and tipped his hat at her when they reached the gates.

‘Mama said you’re off at 6 tonight?’

Beth shook her head with fond exasperation.

‘Yes.’ She waved as the bounty hunter nodded in acknowledgement. ‘I will see you then, I assume.’

Billy just tipped his hat again, and strode off, as Beth crouched down in front of Mac.

‘And I’m going to see you again then, aren’t I?’ He couldn’t bark out a ‘yes’, so just wagged his tail and nodded. She gave that affectionately exasperated head-shake again, and reached out to scratch behind his ears, before gesturing at the bundle he was holding in his mouth. ‘If you can’t undo that knot like we practiced, just rip the sheet, alright?’

(Jack and Bozer’s breakfast was held in a doubled-over, clean, but old and worn sheet.)

He nodded again, and then took off at a quick lope, heading for the old abandoned cottage.

Jack and Bozer were probably freaking out by now.

* * *

Sure enough, when he got to the cottage, Jack and Bozer’s voices were all he could hear.

‘…He’s probably fine, Boze. He’s probably gotten himself an in and he’ll be back to being his too-blonde, twisted-steel-and-sex-appeal self in six days…’

‘But what if he isn’t? What if he’s stuck in a ditch somewhere? Or gotten himself stuck in a chimney?’

‘Why the hell would he be in a chimney in the first place?

‘’Cause he’s Mac.’

‘Huh. Yeah, that makes sense.’

He could tell by the tones of their voices that they’d had this conversation many, many times in the last twelve hours or so, circling around and around, swapping roles every now and then.

_Yeah, I know._

_We spend way too much time together…_

Mac darted into the cottage in the middle of Jack and Bozer’s argument, thus settling it.

He set down his bundle, and opened it without trouble, revealing an assortment of raw meat scraps, some leftover cooked bits, and some chunks of bread and vegetables, as well as a big, juicy bone.

(Beth was apparently well-versed in what consisted of a healthy diet for dogs.)

(Mac had read just about every book ever written on the subject that he could get his hands on when his grandfather had let him keep Archimedes, and he suspected that she’d read the same literature at some point.)

‘Beth gave these to me for you two.’

Bozer grinned and nudged him with his nose.

‘ _Nice,_ bro! We’ve been here less than a day and you’ve _already_ made a move!’ He actually sniffled. ‘I’m so proud of you!’

Mac and Jack, accustomed to Bozer by now, just shrugged, Mac shaking his head affectionately, while Jack nodded in a way that suggested he agreed with Bozer’s general sentiment. Mac then sat down on his haunches, while Jack scarfed down some of the meat, complaining, as he always did, between bites.

‘Aw, come on, man, staying in a fancy castle and you couldn’t get us any bacon?’

Mac rolled his eyes.

‘Bacon is bad for dogs.’ He paused. ‘Actually, it’s also bad for humans, Jack.’

The older man snagged a piece of chicken breast.

‘Eh, everything in moderation.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t eat bacon in moderation.’

* * *

At 6 pm that evening, Mac was waiting outside the gates of the Houses of Healing, along with Billy Colton, who’d arrived moments after he did, grinned and crouched down to scratch behind his ears.

They’d only had to wait a minute or two before Beth walked out of the gates, and smiled at the two of them, and then the three of them had started walking towards the castle.

When they reached the castle gates, Billy spoke.

‘I’m out of town tomorrow…’

(He had to meet up with Jessie and Frank, who were away chasing a big bounty and needed his help.)

Billy trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

‘I’ll be fine, Billy.’ She gestured to Mac, a fond little smile on her face. ‘And, well, I have my champion, after all.’

Billy crouched down to Mac’s level.

‘You watch her back, boy.’ His expression grew wry. ‘Or Mama will have our hides.’

* * *

Beth walked into a small chamber in another private wing of the castle, set up as a dining room. Mac followed her, but paused in the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation.

(It was clearly her family’s private dining room, and the table was set for their dinner.)

Beth gave another one of those fond little head-shakes, and gestured at just under the table, where there was a bowl of water set out already.

‘Come in, boy.’

He trotted out of the doorway, and just in time too, because Beth’s parents arrived just as he was settling in under the table.

Lady Caitlyn was a very petite woman even shorter than her daughter, though there was a startling resemblance between the two, except for their colouring. Caitlyn was blonde, though her hair was showing streaks of grey, and had bright blue eyes.

Lord Michael was a lean man of about Bozer’s height, with brown eyes the same shade as his daughter’s, and hair that was now more grey than brown.

They both smiled at their daughter when they entered the dining room, before Lady Caitlyn crouched down in front of Mac, and reached out to pet his ruff. Lord Michael smiled a little wider, standing behind his wife.

‘So this is your famous champion.’

‘We owe you for protecting our daughter.’ Caitlyn scratched under his chin, and Mac couldn’t help but wag his tail wildly and smile up at her in bliss, which made her laugh. ‘Kastrati and his friends must have been _very_ drunk to mistake him for a wolf!’

She gave him one last scratch under his chin, before standing and looking at her daughter, her expression growing serious, just as her husband’s did too.

‘Kastrati Senior came to complain about what you and your champion did to his son last night.’ The look on Caitlyn’s face and her tone of voice indicated that she thought the man was a fool for doing that. ‘There are a dozen witnesses who swear that his son and his friends were harassing and assaulting you, so you and your champion must have been acting in self-defence, and Ralph Kastrati and his friends have suffered nothing but ruined clothing, bruises and wounded pride.’

Her husband continued, putting a comforting hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

‘Neither you nor your new friend have any case to answer, but the fact that this happened in the first place…’

Michael and Caitlyn understood why their daughter didn’t want to have to take a Guard (or a contingent of Guards) to work with her, understood why she wanted no special treatment.

They’d raised her to not see herself as special or entitled due to her position, raised her to understand that duty was important, and that her privilege came with extra duties, raised her to understand that it was not a person’s title that was important, but their character.

But at the same time, there was always a fine line to walk. A difficult balance to maintain.

The fact was, she _was_ no ordinary Healer, she was the heir (the _sole_ heir) to Lafayette, and would rule the province second only to the King one day.

That was why, realistically, she _did_ need special treatment from time to time.

(For example, she sometimes had to be excused from a shift or taken off shifts entirely to fulfil her duties as Lady Bethany of Lafayette.)

Beth sighed, and thought for a moment, before speaking.

‘Can we compromise? How about I walk only on the busier main roads, and ask my champion to escort me to and from the Houses?’ Her expression grew half-wry, half-affectionate, as she absent-mindedly stroked Mac’s back, glancing at him. ‘I think he’ll insist, anyway.’ She paused, expression growing more serious again. ‘And if it happens again, I promise I’ll take a Guard with me, or one of the Coltons, if they’re available and willing.’

Her parents exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, before they nodded.

‘It’s a good idea, and a fair compromise.’

Caitlyn nodded in agreement with her husband, and gestured to Mac again.

‘You should give him a collar with our crest on it, for his protection.’

Beth nodded in agreement, just as there was a knock on the door, and three servants brought in their dinner.

One of them was carrying a very large bone, with an unusually large amount of meat left on it. Beth raised her brows at her parents, and her dad shrugged.

‘We owe him a reward, and I thought he’d prefer that over gold or jewels.’

* * *

That night, after dinner, Beth sat in her reading nook and braided together several leather thongs, threading them through a pewter brooch she’d dug out of her jewellery box with the Lafayette crest on it. When she was done, she held up the makeshift collar to show Mac, who was sitting at her feet on the rug, resting his head on his front paws while watching her.

‘I know you might not want to wear this, but it’ll stop people from hurting you…’

Putting the crest on him, Mac knew, would mark him as her pet, a member of her family. Thus, anyone who hurt him could ultimately be made to answer to the King for what was quite a serious crime.

Since he was a human, and still had his human mind, he really didn’t want to wear a collar. Besides, it was weird and awkward and inappropriate and kind of creepy, since he _was_ a human.

Then again, just about everything that had happened since he’d helped her in that alleyway was weird and awkward and inappropriate and kind of creepy, and it wasn’t either of their faults.

And her logic was sound. No-one except The Cage Witch, The Witch of Thorns, Jack and Bozer knew he was actually a human cursed into this form, his ability to defend himself was limited by his current form, and he would not put it beyond Kastrati and his friends to try and get revenge on him.

So, Mac got up and stretched out his neck and stood still so that she could put it on him. Beth tied the leather around his neck securely but not too tightly, and carefully arranged the brooch so that it was clearly visible.

She smiled and scratched behind his ears.

‘Welcome to the family.’

* * *

Half an hour later, Beth was curled up in her reading nook, reading a very thick book written by the famed Engineer Benjamin Franklin (who was, admittedly, also famous for his social and political activism and as an advisor to the previous King, late in his life).

Mac was curled up at her feet on the rug, listening with interest, as she occasionally read the most interesting segments out-loud.

(She also occasionally thought out-loud, talking to herself, inspired by something or the other that she’d read.)

(He found that more interesting than the segments – he’d already read that book before, after all.)

She read out-loud from time to time because she was humouring him, being light-hearted and a little silly, and because it was generally thought that talking to your dog was important for bonding with them, he knew.

He’d gotten very excited when she’d pulled that book from the shelf, tail wagging furiously and yipping.

_Yeah, I know, but can you blame me?_

_A, all of my emotions and instinctive reactions are closer to the surface in this body and harder to control and keep inside. They feel stronger, more dominant._

_B, I’m honestly bored, intellectually. Being a dog prevents you from reading, jotting down ideas and blueprints and mathematical proofs, building something or having an intellectual conversation._

_Seriously, I really miss having opposable thumbs._

_And C, it’s a really, really fascinating book._

* * *

In the morning, at the bright and early hour of 7 am, he escorted Beth to work, found out that she was off at 4 pm that night, and then ran back to the abandoned cottage with Jack and Bozer’s breakfast wrapped in an old sheet in his mouth.

He dropped the bundle in the middle of the cottage’s main room, and undid the knot, as Jack and Bozer stirred. Both of them got to their feet, drank some water from the dish that they’d positioned under a hole in the roof to collect rainwater, and still moving automatically, started eating their breakfast.

After a couple of bites, Jack and Bozer finally started to wake up properly, and, as Mac had expected, noticed his new collar.

Bozer made an _aww_ sound, before making a face, apparently realizing that this was really _weird._ Jack snorted and nudged Mac in the shoulder.

‘Careful, brother. Next thing you know, she’ll be tying ribbons in your fur and giving you fancy haircuts!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of dog!Mac will continue in the next chapter. I hope you’re liking them so far!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘He’s _very_ clever and really likes to help.’


	7. Chapter 7

Mac learned a lot of things in his first couple of days as a dog.

Firstly, he couldn’t tell Beth (or anyone else, for that matter) that he wasn’t _actually_ a dog, in any way. He’d tried writing with a stick held in his mouth while waiting for her outside the Houses of Healing the day after she’d taken him in. The stick had disappeared as soon as he’d started writing the first letter. He’d tried digging furrows in the castle gardens to spell out words. When those had magically erased themselves as fast as he could ‘write’ them, he’d tried Morse code, hoping that he could get around this arbitrary, infuriating and _just plain befuddling_ magic. That didn’t work either. He’d tried stealing Beth’s books or notes and trying to spell things out in Null Cipher, but found himself actually incapable of putting them in the right order to spell anything but gibberish.

(Besides, stealing her books or notes _annoyed_ her. It got him a scolding and a long-suffering, exasperated but ultimately fond look, and instructions to go outside and have a run around the gardens or the Knights’ obstacle course to burn off his excess energy and address his boredom.)

He was just going to have to hope that she worked out that he was _too_ smart and liked engineering _too_ much for a Golden Retriever, then made that admittedly ludicrous logical leap.

(He had doubts. It wasn’t exactly as if A followed B which followed C, after all.)

Secondly, he found that he _really, really_ liked scratches under his chin and behind his ears.

Belly rubs were also great, and it felt really good when the fur around his neck and chest were ruffled.

And it was going to be _so_ awkward when he turned back into a human, but it was also very enjoyable when Beth gave him a bath, as was her brushing out his coat afterwards.

He also really enjoyed quiet evenings curled up in her reading nook, listening to the portions that she read out-loud, and her occasional thoughts.

(She had some really interesting ideas, her Healer’s training giving her an interesting, new and different perspective.)

(He couldn’t write them down, or add his thoughts to them, but he put some additional effort into making sure those ideas and thoughts didn’t get lost in the whirlwind in his mind, so he could share them later.)

He learned things about her, too.

(Her favourite food was pie. He was pretty sure her favourite colour was blue. Tesla was her favourite of the famed Engineers, and she was very organized – hence why she couldn’t stand it when he messed with her notes and books - and really liked to plan, and enjoyed doing experiments.)

He also learned about the women that Jack and Bozer had to find, and did what he could to help.

* * *

On the third day, Mac waited for Jack and Bozer to finish eating before he spoke, a little awkwardly and well aware of the fact, but very earnestly.

‘I think you need to tell me about who you’re looking for, especially as in four days, I won’t be able to understand you.’

Jack stopped scratching absent-mindedly at his side, while Bozer looked up from where he was gnawing on a bone.

It was Bozer who spoke first.

‘I don’t remember enough to describe her, bro.’ His voice was a little flat, which was unusual for him; Bozer was spirited, to say the least. Still, he perked up optimistically. ‘But I’ll know her when I see her!’

Mac just nodded, trying not to let his scepticism and concern show.

(He was a scientist at heart and liked precise answers, to the extent that he could be maddeningly pedantic.)

(Bozer wasn’t quite so logical.)

The two younger men then turned to Jack, with looks on their faces that were amusingly identical and that he’d usually tease them for.

However, Jack sighed instead, resting his head on his paws.

Jack wasn’t one for talking about the past.

Oh, he never let Mac forget a funny moment or a screw-up, and he was always ready with a story or two or three (which Mac called long-winded, frequently irrelevant and often pointless, but Jack maintained had subtle life-lessons and wisdom in them), but he didn’t like to _really_ talk about the past, about the regrets that haunted him and the bittersweet memories and the tragedies and losses and the what-could-have-beens.

(Mac was exactly the same about that.)

(It’d taken years of friendship and partnership for them to finally talk about Mac’s dad who’d abandoned him at the age of ten.)

After a long moment, Jack spoke, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, a little rough with emotion and gilded with guilt.

‘Sixteen years ago, I courted a seamstress. Her name was Diane, and she had a daughter, but she’d, uh, left her husband. Daughter’s name was Riley, and she was twelve…’

* * *

‘…He was drunk as a skunk and beating her up, so I threw him around, gladly. Tossed him out on his ass.’ Jack swallowed, voice growing rougher, that note of guilt stronger, woven with regret. ‘And then I walked out. Never came back, never saw ‘em again.’ Bozer’s eyes were wide and Mac was listening intently. When Jack paused, Mac nudged him gently, comfortingly. Jack managed a wan little smile at him, before continuing. ‘A few months later, I tried to find ‘em, you know, make sure they were doing okay, but I couldn’t find them. Not at their house, not anywhere in the capital. So now I got no idea where to find Diane.’

That note of regret and guilt was stronger again. Mac nudged Jack again, in lieu of his ability to put a hand on his shoulder, while Bozer pushed the bone he’d been gnawing over to the older man. That got a wan little smile out of the Knight.

‘We’ll find her, Jack. I promise.’

(Mac’s brain was already whirring with possibilities, with ideas on how one could track down one particular seamstress in the admittedly-large Kingdom of Phoenix.)

(Most of them centred on waiting until he was turned back into a human and sending an urgent letter by courier pigeon to Matty.)

(Matty, despite apparently not having any magic – Mac suspected she had a little, but he wasn’t going to say anything if she wanted to keep that a secret – knew nearly everything, as befitted the Kingdom’s Spymaster.)

(She also had a close friendship with the King, and had many resources at her disposal.)

(If anyone could find Diane Davis, it was Matty and her Spies and the Scribes who worked with them.)

That promise, backed up by Bozer’s decisive, immediate nod of agreement, made Jack’s smile widen just a little bit.

He’d never have children of his own.

He’d sort-of made his peace with that.

He’d been younger when Diane and Riley had come into his life, not quite realized that that hole in his life was there or caring about filling it anytime soon, but he’d felt the loss of his near-stepdaughter from his life acutely.

It was a hole that stayed there, gaping, obvious and still aching, completely unfilled until he’d met Mac.

It was still very much there, and he still missed Diane and Riley, that wound still ached from time-to-time, but Mac and Bozer were good surrogate kids.

* * *

Mac walked through town, keeping an eye out for a woman matching Diane Davis’ description, or her daughter’s, on the off-chance that improbably, they’d happened to move to Lafayette Town.

_Hey, highly improbable is not impossible. Trust me, I would know._

_And coincidences are statistically inevitable._

A shirt flew over his head, blown by the wind, and he jumped up and caught it instinctively, then ran over, carrying it in his mouth, to the teenage girl who’d been taking down her family’s washing when the gust of particularly-strong wind had blown through.

She grinned at him, and took the shirt, crouching down to scratch behind his ears.

‘Thank you!’

* * *

Mac lay just inside Beth’s bedchamber, head on his paws as he listened with interest to the conversation the Healer and her mother were having out on the balcony as they measured and counted the healing herbs that covered most of the balcony.

(Beth was empirically and methodically determining ideal growing conditions for a selection of medicinal plants considered ‘tricky’ to grow.)

He couldn’t follow half of their conversation (which was _very_ unusual for him) as they discussed Caitlyn’s idea for the development of a new painkiller using an extract of one of the plants, something not previously invented due to the fact that the plant was rare in the wild and hard to cultivate, at least until Beth had, by process of elimination and the law of large numbers, worked out the right growing conditions.

‘…but won’t that have an adverse reaction with poppy syrup? Even if we use this as a painkiller to replace poppy syrup, we do still use it as a sedative, and any patients in that much pain will almost-certainly need to be sedated as well.’

‘If combined with concentrated lemon balm, I think the combined analgesic and sedative properties will be sufficient for most patients, but of course, we’ll need to do some experiments…’

As she listened to her mother, Beth held out the empty watering can to Mac.

He took it, and ran over to the bathroom, going up on his hind legs to dump it in the bathtub, then opened the tap with his mouth to fill it with cold water. When the watering can was full, he turned off the tap, and retrieved the watering can, and ran it back to Beth.

Caitlyn looked impressed, and a little surprised, and just glanced at her daughter with a question in her eyes. Beth shrugged, a little helplessly.

‘He’s _very_ clever and really likes to help.’

* * *

On the fourth day, a Saturday, Mac and Bozer were walking around town, Mac having suggested that the more women Bozer saw in a day, the more likely he was to find _the_ woman in a timely fashion, due to simple probability.

They happened to stumble upon a bigger boy bullying a smaller one, having stolen his kite, and exchanged a glance, not needing to speak.

(Bozer had first met Mac – who’d been moved up two grades at school into Bozer’s year – when Donnie Sandoz had been beating up the younger boy. Bozer had jumped into the fray and broken the bully’s nose, getting suspended from school for two weeks. Mac had gone over to his house every day of that suspension to do his homework, and they’d been best friends ever since.)

Mac went left, and Bozer went right.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the bully was gone, and Mac had somehow managed to mostly fix the boy’s damaged kite, despite his lack of opposable thumbs, with the aid of the boy and Bozer.

The boy grinned widely, and headed for a local park at a run, though not before gesturing for Bozer and Mac to follow him.

The two best friends exchanged a glance, and then ran after the boy, Bozer with an excited whoop (which came out as a _woof_ ), Mac with a grin.

_Kite-flying is lots of fun, no matter how old you are._

_And there’s lots of fascinating physics. Air resistance, surface area, wind currents and variation in local air temperature, velocity, tension and elasticity in the string, the fabric and the frame…_

_And I can now tell you, empirically, that it’s also lots of fun for our four-legged friends._

_Chasing a kite tail is a surprisingly occupying and enjoyable pastime._

* * *

The fourth night, Mac slept in front of a small pot-bellied stove in a tiny chamber with a small cot in it in the Houses of Healing, hoping that this still counted as Beth’s hearth, since she was _technically_ sleeping there for the night, even though she’d only had a two-hour nap in the late evening.

Beth had had to stay to treat and monitor a patient, a sixteen-year-old farmer’s son from an outlying area who’d been badly cut on the arm in an attack by bandits eight days ago. The wound had gotten infected, and when it became clear that their son was desperately ill, his parents had undertaken an urgent journey to Lafayette Town and the Houses of Healing. They’d arrived around noon, and the Healers had immediately gotten to work, but the boy was well and truly fighting for his life.

Mac woke up sometime in the very early hours of the morning, perhaps about 4 am, when Beth came back into the tiny room, expression full of grief and exhaustion.

She sank down onto the cot, posture slumping, and rubbed her temple with her free hand. Mac gave a sympathetic whine, and got up and nudged her hand with his nose.

Automatically, she reached out to ruffle his fur, silent for a moment, before speaking after he gave another whine.

Her voice was quiet and exhausted and sad, with a clear note of grief in there.

‘We lost him.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘Sixteen years old and trying to protect his family, and…’

Beth trailed off and just flung her arms around him, resting her cheek against his ruff. He felt and heard her give a sob, then another.

She was trained to detach a little, as all Healers were, so that they could stay objective, triage and continue to treat patients even when the losses piled up, as they always did, inevitably.

(Every Healer lost patients, and the longer their career, the more they lost. It was just a fact of life, one that Healers had to live with.)

But she was also still human, like they all were.

Mac had no doubt that she’d remained a consummate, focused professional, caring but calm and objective, while she’d fought for the farmer’s son’s life.

But now, she had to let her emotions out.

(He had a feeling that this wasn’t just about the farmer’s son, but about the doubtlessly many patients she’d seen suffer, die or be disabled in the recent dark years.)

(Necessity would have forced her to keep her Healer’s calm and composure during the dark days, but now that they were over, and the shadow they’d cast beginning to fade – spring was coming faster than ever recorded, just in the last five days – she couldn’t hold it back any longer.)

‘…you can’t save everyone, you can only try as hard as you can, and that has to be enough.’

Beth said that as if it were a mantra. He suspected it was a piece of much-valued advice from a mentor or a teacher during her Healer training.

She raised her head, and took several deep breaths, drying her eyes with a handkerchief that she pulled out of a pocket sewn into her dress.

Then, she put her handkerchief away and reached out to stroke behind his ears. He leaned into her touch, and did his best to make a happy little noise for her, and she gave a wan smile.

‘Now that Murdoc’s been defeated and the dark days are over…’ As she spoke, her smile widened a little, growing more hopeful, matching her voice. ‘…things _will_ get better, won’t they, boy?’

There was something fiercely determined in the last few words, like she would personally, somehow, by sheer strength of will, _make_ things get better.

It made him smile too, and he nodded insistently.

A not-so-little voice in his head insistently and determinedly hoped that the hopefulness in her voice, that _better_ that she was referring to, wasn’t just for the Kingdom or her patients, but also for him coming back to fulfil that promise he’d made her.

(That promise had been, for some reason that he’d refused to become distracted by by fully analysing at the time, one of his admittedly-many things to fight for, to keep going for, during that long trek through the wilderness to The Witch of Thorns’ home, during that long battle through Murdoc’s guards, during that knife-edged battle with the sorcerer himself.)

Mac gave another sympathetic whine as Beth removed her Healer’s apron and curled up on her cot, nudging his nose into her hand again, before settling himself down next to the cot.

(It meant he wasn’t exactly on the hearth anymore, but if this didn’t count towards the seven nights, or restarted the count, he didn’t mind.)

(She was running her hand along his back, and the action and his nearness seemed to provide her with comfort, so he was going to stay there.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mac is literally a Golden Retriever, both literally and figuratively, in this chapter, no?
> 
> Shout-out to deepandlovelydark (thank you very much!) for pointing out to me that Mac really should have tried more than just talking to Beth (since he’s Mac and all), and hence reminding me of that little bit at the start of this chapter. I’m still convinced that I wrote something along those lines about a month ago, but I suspect I either accidentally deleted it, or wound up getting distracted by something/someone/another part of this story, thought I’d written it and then never went back. I missed it on my editing run, too, which is embarrassing! My only excuse is that this is a really long story, and a lot happens, so…
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Maybe MacGyver will be back.’


	8. Chapter 8

The fifth day was a Sunday. It was also a day off for Beth, and so, the morning was devoted to reading some of the latest literature on the Healer’s art, working on her ongoing experiment and returning correspondence.

(She’d put aside the hot-water-dispensing plumbing system for now, as she was stuck.)

(Mac was fairly certain that he’d come up with a work-around for the particular problem she was stuck on, but hadn’t come up with a good way to communicate that in his current form, especially since he didn’t want to freak her out.)

Mac, who’d gone to deliver Jack and Bozer’s breakfast, before coming back (he now had access to the entire castle; Guards and servants never bothered him or tried to stop him), had helped her out as best as he could, picking up a dropped bookmark, refilling her watering can and helping her pick up letters scattered by a sudden gust of wind through the ajar doors to the balcony.

Now, he was sitting at her feet under her desk as she sealed what seemed to be the last of the letters, as when it was done and placed in a small basket, she glanced at the clock and got up.

He immediately got up too, which made Beth shake her head with exasperated affection.

‘I’m not leaving the castle yet; you don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know.’ He yipped, pointing out that he did not actually follow her _everywhere_ ; he didn’t follow her into the Houses of Healing, most of the time, or the bathroom, ever, for example. He knew she didn’t understand him, but it made her laugh anyway. ‘I’m going to drop these off with the Pigeon Handler; if you’d rather, you can meet me by the gates in twenty minutes.’

* * *

After dropping off her basket of letters to the Pigeon Handler (who made Mac stay outside the aviary, which was fair enough as he made the pigeons nervous), Beth walked through the castle until she reached a series of chambers that were identifiable as seamstresses’, tailors’, weavers’, spinners’ and rug- and tapestry-makers’ work areas, by the symbols on the doors.

Beth knocked on the rug-maker’s door, and a woman’s voice called out.

‘Come in!’

She opened the door, revealing a woman who looked to be in her mid-late thirties, but Mac suspected was probably younger.

(She didn’t look exhausted, but she looked worn down, in a way that tended to make one look far older than their years, and had a long scar from her forehead to her chin, just missing her right eye, which she’d hidden as best as she could with some kind of makeup.)

The woman was hard at work, weaving a rug in rich purples on a loom. She scrambled to her feet when she saw Beth.

‘My lady-‘

Beth shook her head, a smile on her face.

‘Mistress Beth, Nicole, _please._ ’ She said it like she’d said it many times before, walking over and examining the rug on the loom. ‘This is beautiful! It’s for Jill’s office, right?’

Nicole nodded.

‘Yes, my…sorry, Mistress Beth.’

Beth smiled wider, and pulled up a spare stool and grabbed one of the balls of wool from the basket at Nicole’s feet that’d gotten very tangled, getting to work unwinding it and rolling it back up into a neat ball.

Nicole, after a moment of hesitation, glancing from the Lady untangling yarn to Mac at her feet, sat back down on her stool and kept weaving.

Mac noticed that once Nicole was busy again, Beth became less focused on the wool in her lap, and paid more attention to the older woman’s movements as she worked at the loom, a very Healer-y look on her face.

(With all these little clues, he was absolutely sure that there was a story there, and that it was a sad and painful and cruel one for Nicole.)

(Her startling resemblance to Nate, the young Page who’d brought a message to Beth in the Houses weeks ago, was perhaps the biggest, clearest clue.)

* * *

About half an hour later, Beth glanced out the window, where the position of the sun indicated that it was around 1 pm. She put down the now neat ball of yarn, and stood.

‘You work only half days on Sunday, right, Nicole?’ The woman looked up and nodded. Beth smiled, and gestured at the window. ‘Do you mind if I go home with you?’ Her expression was just a touch sheepish, but mostly that calm, caring Healer-y look of hers. ‘You’re favouring your right shoulder; I want to do an examination, and there’s a salve I think I’ll likely need to prescribe.’

Nicole just shook her head, looking very much like she really didn’t want to trouble the Lady, and, Mac was sure, get herself further into what she saw as a debt.

‘It’s fine, my lady, uh, Mistress Beth. It just aches a little after a day’s work…’

Beth just looked at the woman, expression gentle, but very firm at the same time, an expression that she probably used on patients quite frequently.

‘I’m a Healer, Nicole. I swore oaths, to help the sick and the injured and those in pain, no matter who they might be. And as the future Lady Lafayette, it’s my duty to protect and look after the people of Lafayette.’ Her voice and expression softened. ‘Please let me help you, and Nate and Nessa.’

Nicole was silent for a moment, looking the younger woman in the eye.

Beth had her calm, caring Healer’s expression on her face, though there was a glint of fierce determination in her eyes, which Nicole probably picked up on, because she nodded.

Neither Mac nor Beth missed the gratefulness that flashed across her face when she did, nor did they miss the fact that her shoulders straightened a little, as if a weight had lifted off them.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after they’d stopped by to collect Nate from his Page duties (he worked on weekends and two days a week after school for a couple of hours) and Nessa from the nearest orphanage, where she’d been playing with the kids who lived there and the children of other castle servants (Beth’s parents paid the orphanage to care for the children of their employees while they were working), Nicole, Nessa and Nate sat at a table under the spring sun outside a popular bakery.

Beth walked out of the bakery, carrying several sandwiches and a couple of slices of roast beef on a platter, as well as a plate with four muffins on it.

(She’d declared that she was hungry and wanted to buy some lunch, inviting Nicole, Nate and Nessa to join her and her champion.)

With a smile, she set the food out on the table, and Nate and Nessa eagerly stopped petting Mac and eyed their lunch.

Beth smiled and held out the roast beef slices for Mac. Nicole smiled too, and pointed towards the two ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, both cut in half and grilled, and then the two chocolate chip muffins.

‘Eat your sandwiches, including the tomatoes, and then you can have your muffins.’ She paused. ‘And what do you say to Mistress Beth for lunch?’

Both kids, Nate already with half a sandwich in hand (he was just hitting that age when the appetite started to become voracious), grinned at the Healer.

‘Thank you!’

Beth smiled wider, and picked up the first half of her own sandwich (roast chicken, lettuce, tomato and cheese), nudging the platter a little closer to Nicole, encouraging her to take her own sandwich.

‘You’re welcome!’

* * *

When they got to Nicole, Nate and Nessa’s little cottage, in one of the poorer parts of town, Nicole paused just inside, and turned to her kids.

‘Why don’t you go outside and play with Mistress Beth’s champion while we talk?’ She paused, and turned to the Healer, looking apologetic for being presumptuous. ‘If that’s alright with my lady, uh, sorry, her?’

Beth smiled.

‘Of course it’s alright!’ She crouched down and spoke to Mac, scratching behind his ears. ‘Don’t let them get into trouble, okay, boy?’

There was something very serious in her eyes.

(And no wonder, Mac thought, given the scar on Nicole’s face and the still-slightly-haunted look in her eyes and the conversation he’d overheard in the Houses.)

He barked in response, a serious ‘yes’, and a promise that no matter how unlikely it were that the kids’ banished father would show up in the next hour or so, he’d protect them.

Smile widening a little, Beth scratched behind his ears again, then got up, gesturing towards Nate and Nessa.

Obediently, Mac ran outside with the kids, and fetched thrown sticks for nearly an hour.

It was undignified, but he had a soft spot for kids.

(And for beautiful, intelligent women with steel in their spines and strong spirits.)

* * *

That night, over their dinner, Caitlyn looked up at her daughter after glancing at her husband (Mac was sitting to the side of the table, eating his own dinner) and spoke.

She sounded equal parts sorry, but not apologetic, and indignant.

‘I ran into Mrs Kastrati in town. She _suggested_ that now the dark days are over, that you need to find a husband as soon as possible, and that her son would be an ideal fit for the role.’ Both Beth and Michael looked astounded, and Caitlyn continued, her voice more indignant. ‘Not Ralph, the oldest one.’

Beth looked vaguely horrified.

‘He’s twenty years older than me.’

Caitlyn nodded.

‘She suggested that it was _appropriate,_ since you’re a spinster.’

Michael looked very indignant, and Beth both hurt and angry, perhaps more hurt.

At twenty-eight, while she was older than most unmarried noble- and upper-class-women, she wasn’t old enough to be considered a spinster yet either.

And it wasn’t unusual for commoners, male or female, to marry in their thirties, since they nearly-universally married for love. One would have to reach thirty-five and not be in a courtship at the time to be considered a bachelor or a spinster.

(Mac, meanwhile, could not help but listen with great interest, and was starting to really, really, really not like these Kastratis.)

(An admittedly not-very-nice part of his brain was arguing in favour of replicating the accident he’d inflicted upon his dad’s toolshed when he was seven.)

(Albeit this time not on a toolshed, but the Kastratis’ residence, and, by definition, not accidentally.)

Beth sighed after a moment, rubbing her temple with her right hand.

‘Mrs Kastrati has a point. I need to find a husband.’ She was the only heir to Lafayette. She needed to marry and produce an heir (and preferably a couple of ‘spares’) of her own, and the people, from the highest nobility to the poorest commoners, expected that of her, knew it was needed. During the dark times, it’d been easy to put off, but now, she knew it had to go to the top of the priorities list. Beth sighed again, expression sad, but her voice oddly like her Healer’s voice. Dutiful, perhaps. ‘I might need to give up on marrying for love, and just find someone who respects me, won’t object to me working as a Healer and that I can hopefully be friends with.’ A note of bitterness, and something sad and resigned appeared in her voice. ‘That may already be difficult to find.’

After all, she _was_ a noblewoman, and an heir to boot.

That seriously restricted her pool of potential suitors.

It also required weeding out all the suitors who’d marry her for her title, money and reasonable beauty, and/or those who’d try to stifle her intellect and her following her calling.

Due to those factors and the dark times they’d had (and hence all the time she’d spent in the Houses, doing her bit to fight that darkness), Beth had only been in a courtship three times in her life.

Once when she was sixteen, with the son of her father’s Head Scribe, which had lasted only a month.

The second courtship had been when she was twenty, with a young Engineer stationed in Lafayette, which had lasted two months.

And the third and longest courtship had been when she was twenty-three, finishing the last of her Healer’s training, with another trainee Healer who also happened to be the fourth son of a Lord. That’d lasted nearly a year, and she’d thought they’d marry (they’d nearly been betrothed), but it hadn’t worked out, in the end.

Michael started protesting, while Caitlyn reached out and took her daughter’s hand with her right and her husband’s with her left, comforting one, calming the other.

‘You deserve to marry for love, Beth. Everyone does.’

‘And you’re younger than we were when we met.’

Her parents fervently believed in that, even if not all of the noble and upper classes did. Their parents had too; Caitlyn’s because they were commoners, considered part of the ‘middle’ class, _very_ successful and respected Apothecaries or not, Michael’s because the Lafayette line had long been unusual.

As such, her parents had remained unmarried well into their thirties. They’d met by chance when they were thirty-five, and had married less than a year later.

(There’d been protests – many had said that Caitlyn was too old to be a Lord’s wife, with too many of her childbearing years behind her and too few left.)

(In a way, they’d been right, as Beth was an only child despite her parents’ attempts to have more.)

Beth just gave a little nod, squeezed her mother’s hand in thanks, and did her best to give her dad a little smile, though it was clear that her marital future still weighed heavily on her mind.

After a moment, Michael smiled in a way that made him look much younger, soft and gentle and hopeful.

‘Maybe MacGyver will be back.’

(He and his wife had gone down to the Houses a couple of times to visit the Engineer, Sir Dalton and their companion Bozer, and had seen their daughter interact with all three of them.)

(Social interaction was not Michael’s strongest suit, but he knew his daughter, had seen that budding connection.)

Mac was suddenly even more interested in the conversation, even as a voice in his head admonished him for listening in on it, since it was clearly very much not meant for his ears.

Beth’s cheeks flushed a little, and she gave a little half-shake of her head.

‘He promised he’d help me with the plumbing upgrades for the Houses, and I know he’ll keep that promise if…well…he’s alive.’ Worry and concern and fear and sadness, tempered by hope, were clear in her voice. Mac tried not to feel gratified by that, since she was _worried_ and _sad_ , but it was honestly difficult. She looked up at her parents. ‘…but that is a very long way from...’

She gestured vaguely, trailing off, her meaning clear, cheeks flushing a little more.

Michael looked like he wanted to protest that, but didn’t after his wife shot him a pointed look.

Beth missed that exchange, because she was staring down at her plate. She cut another bite of roasted pumpkin, before she seemed to decide that she wasn’t hungry anymore, and stood up.

‘I think I’ll retire early…’

She sounded as if she was still very preoccupied.

Caitlyn and Michael looked concerned, but nodded, and after both of them had hugged Beth, she headed for her chambers, Mac following behind her, a little emotionally conflicted.

(On one hand, he now knew for sure that she’d felt that _connection_ too, the one that he hadn’t fully recognized for what it really was – how surprisingly deep it went - until after they’d left Lafayette Town.)

(The not-so-little voice in his head, the one that occasionally impersonated Bozer and whispered that it really wouldn’t be that bad at all if her parents insisted on a betrothal once he was a man again, but more often told him that something _good_ could come of this curse, that perhaps he’d found the right one under the right circumstances at the right time, grew louder and stronger.)

(On the other hand, Beth was sad and hurt and indignant, and he really, really, really didn’t like that, wanted to make that better, any way he could.)

( _Why_ he wanted to do that admittedly really wasn’t surprising anymore.)

* * *

Beth stood on her balcony, surrounded by medicinal plants on both sides, staring out over Lafayette Town.

After a few minutes of watching with concern, Mac walked out onto the balcony, carefully avoiding bumping into the plants, and gave her dress’s skirt a little tug.

Beth looked down at him, and he gave a sympathetic whine, nudging her with his nose. That got a wan little smile out of her, and she crouched down to pet his back and scratch behind his ears.

‘You’ll be my friend and champion, no matter what, won’t you, boy?’

Her voice was affectionate, full of faith.

He nodded very seriously, wishing that he could communicate properly with her, even as his words came out as yips and barks and whines.

_I will. I promise. No matter what happens, around us or between us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is admittedly very useful, for storytelling purposes, for Beth and her parents to think that Mac is actually a dog…
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘I am an _idiot.’_


	9. Chapter 9

On Mac’s sixth day, Jack walked around town in an excellent mood.

(Come to think of it, Mac had been in pretty good mood too, though he’d not said anything about the _why_ – at least, not anything that wasn’t a vague sort-of excuse that his friends didn’t buy, as Mac was a terrible liar. Jack and Bozer had decided to not annoy it out of him, at least not yet, since Mac was also doing that lost-in-thought thing he did that meant something was _serious_ and really _personal_.)

(He’d need some time to ruminate on it before he was ready to _really_ talk about it. Jack and Bozer’s job was just to make sure that he _did_ really talk about it eventually.)

The weather was warm, he didn’t have fleas, thanks to a flea powder that Beth had given Mac for his friends (it’d taken a while for Mac to put together something that allowed him to sprinkle it over Jack and Bozer, but it had definitely worked), and he’d charmed an innkeeper into giving him a piece of bacon.

Life was pretty good, considering that he was stuck as a dog due to a curse, anyway.

He was just walking along one of the town’s more residential streets when he stopped in his tracks, like he’d seen a ghost.

There was a very familiar tall woman with curly hair that looked like gold and enchanting eyes, carrying a sewing basket, walking down the street.

She looked older than he remembered her, but no less beautiful, no less strong and elegant.

Jack shook himself out of it as Diane walked up to a cottage with two front doors, indicating that it’d been built for a single family, then converted to two residencies, and unlocked the left-hand door and stepped inside.

He looked one more time at her as she closed her front door, then took off at a run towards the abandoned cottage.

* * *

‘I found her! She’s here! I got no idea why or how, but she’s living here now!’

Jack, barking loudly and excitedly, barrelled into the abandoned cottage. Mac stopped attempting to improve his flea-powder-dispenser (he clearly really missed having opposable thumbs), and Bozer stopped gnawing on a bone, the two of them looking up at Jack.

‘Diane?’

‘ _Here_ here, as in Lafayette Town here?’

Jack nodded enthusiastically.

‘Yeah!’ He shook his head, grinning. ‘Can’t believe my luck, but yeah.’

Bozer grinned at Jack, nudging a second bone towards him, which made Jack nod in thanks, while Mac muttered something under his breath about highly improbable coincidences, before smiling at Jack.

‘That’s really good news, Jack.’

The older man grinned wider.

‘One down, two to go!’

Bozer pointed at him as best as he could.

‘Now you just gotta get an in.’

Jack smirked.

‘Time to turn up the Jack Dalton charm!’

Mac and Bozer exchanged a mischievous glance, then gave their own teasing little grins.

‘ _What_ charm?’

‘You’d better dial it up real high, man.’

* * *

Late in the afternoon, after a long but satisfying day of work, Diane Davis gathered kindling on the edge of the forest outside town.

She waved at a couple of the other townsfolk she recognized, and was surprised when one of them, a boy in his mid-teens, pointed behind in her in surprise, then chuckled.

Diane turned around, her arms full of sticks, to find a brown Pit Bull Terrier (an unusually large one), dropping kindling in her basket.

She swore the dog grinned at her, before sitting up very straight, as if he were standing to attention, giving a bark, and running off again.

He returned with more kindling about thirty seconds later, as Diane put her own armload of kindling in the basket.

She smiled at the dog, then held a hand out for him to sniff. He sat, tail wagging, his face somehow very friendly, and her smile widening a little, Diane reached out to scratch under his chin.

‘Thanks, boy.’

* * *

On the sixth night, Beth was reading a compilation of the latest scientific discoveries, freshly delivered by courier. She was sitting on the bench in her reading nook, feet up on her little ottoman, and Mac sat on the rug at her feet, eyeing the journal with great interest.

She looked up between articles, and saw him watching, tilting her head to the left a little.

(It was strange, to see a dog eyeing a scientific journal like a particularly juicy steak.)

Then, she laughed, and patted the bench next to her.

‘Come up here, boy!’ She raised the journal, smiling in a way that was a little silly and made her look much younger. ‘We can share!’

Mac hesitated for a moment.

The bench wasn’t quite long enough for both of them, and if he wanted to actually read, he’d have to lay there with his head on her lap.

(That was very wrong, propriety-wise, of course.)

(Though, in the context of him being her pet dog, there was nothing wrong with it…)

(And, he admitted to himself, a little shamefully, he really wanted to. He liked being close to her, and he also really wanted to read that journal.)

Decision made, he hopped up on the bench and settled himself.

Obligingly, humouring him, Beth shifted the journal a little so he could see the text clearly too. After turning the page, her free hand settled on the back of his neck, and she began idly running her hand over his fur, from behind his ears to the base of his neck.

The touch was distractingly pleasant, and he almost missed the introduction of an article by his friend and fellow Engineer Charlie Robinson.

Mac’s eyebrows went up as best as they could as he read.

He was definitely going to buy Charlie a beer or two next time he saw him.

* * *

The next morning, on what was hopefully his last day as a Golden Retriever, Mac brought breakfast down to Jack and Bozer.

Jack scarfed down a few bites, before nudging Mac in the shoulder, voice teasing, joking, but with something rather serious in his eyes.

(The other dead giveaway that this was a _serious_ conversation was the fact that Bozer conspicuously stopped eating and looked over.)

(Subtle wasn’t really Bozer’s thing.)

‘Might be a betrothed man this time tomorrow, son.’ Jack paused. ‘Heck, depending on her daddy, you might be _married_ tomorrow.’

Jack then fell silent, which was probably the fourth warning or so.

He and Bozer were also looking very expectantly at Mac, which was the fifth sign.

(Jack didn’t really do subtle either.)

Mac sighed and rolled his eyes internally, but spoke wryly after a moment.

‘It could be _much_ worse.’ His voice grew completely serious, looking at both Jack and Bozer. ‘I…I know I haven’t known her very long, but…I really like her.’

He’d finally admitted it.

It reminded him a bit of when he’d met Allie at the annual Phoenix Engineers’ Conference, or when his correspondence with Zoe via magic-mirror had started.

There was that sense of understanding, of being birds of a feather who spoke the same language, which made _connections_ form faster, _feelings_ develop sooner.

He really didn’t want to be married in twenty-four hours, even if he knew that Beth had been attracted to him, fascinated by him, had felt that connection, or, perhaps more accurately, the beginnings of one, when he was human. He’d really like to try and grow this connection into something lasting, something for the rest of their lives. He was pretty sure she’d want that too. It’d be a lot easier and less uncomfortable to do that if they weren’t legally tied to one another ‘till death do they part.

But if where he’d been spending his last six nights (despite not being human and sleeping on the hearth) impugned too much on her honour, then of course he’d marry her, unless, of course, she asked him not to.

Both Jack and Bozer nodded in understanding.

They really, really hoped that Beth was the one for their friend.

Gods knew, Mac deserved it.

Jack nudged Mac again with his nose, gentler this time.

He got it, too.

Mac and Beth spoke the same language, and he figured that the short time they’d known each other for was worth more than a ‘normal’ short time period. He was well aware that they’d had some Conversations while she was nursing them back to health a couple of months back, and sharing someone’s personal space the way Mac had been sharing hers made you get to know them (the real them, with all their little quirks) real fast.

Jack grinned, grabbing a couple more bites of breakfast, before speaking with his mouth full.

‘You know, this reminds me of how Grandpa Dalton and Grandma Dalton met!’ Mac and Bozer exchanged a long-suffering look as Jack picked up steam. ‘It was Harvest Festival, you see, and Grandpa saw this girl across the bonfire, thought that that was one good-looking woman, so went over to strike up a conversation, as you do…’

* * *

‘…he wound up with pie on his face and she had gravy all over her hair, and then her papa walked up to him and said, son-‘

Mac looked utterly incredulous.

‘What does this have to do with my situation?’

Jack looked affronted.

‘Haven’t you been listening, brother? It’s got everything to do with your situation!’

‘It has no relevance, Jack!’

‘It’s subtle, but it’s there, man!’

Mac just looked pointedly at Bozer, who shrugged and looked apologetically at Jack.

‘Sorry, man. I’m with my bro on this one.’ He paused, and grinned. ‘But keep going, it’s a pretty cool story, actually…’

Mac now looked incredulously at him too, but Bozer stood firm. He reckoned it’d make a great play, with some tweaking and a little creative license, of course.

* * *

That afternoon, Jack _just so happened_ to be waiting outside Diane’s front door when she got home from work.

Diane did a little double-take as she saw the helpful dog who’d followed her home, carrying a couple of extra pieces of kindling in his mouth, the day before.

He was just sitting there, with a couple of slightly ragged daffodils (her favourite flower, coincidentally) at his feet, tongue hanging out and looking like a cute goofball.

(Which was a little bit strange, because of his breed’s reputation.)

Diane picked up the offering of flowers, and shot the dog a _look._

‘I know what you’re up to.’ He was a stray, who’d clearly decided that she should adopt him. The dog, however, just looked up at her with his brown eyes. Surprisingly, they weren’t puppy dog eyes, not really, but rather a look that reminded her of someone, vulnerable and open, heart on his sleeve. Diane gave a little shake of her head, ignoring that little pang that reminder sent through her, like every occasional reminder of Jack Dalton still did after all these years. She shook her head again, this time directed at the dog, exasperated and a little fond already, despite best efforts to the contrary. ‘Oh, you _are_ a charmer.’ She pulled out her key and opened the door. ‘Come in, boy.’

* * *

The morning after the seventh night, Mac was woken at sunrise by the strangest sensation he’d ever felt.

It wasn’t _painful,_ at least not for him (he had a high pain tolerance), but it was just unbelievably _odd._ He wasn’t completely cognizant, but he was pretty sure he gave a few whines, none too quietly, at the feeling.

The world went black, and when it was back to normal, he was also back to normal.

He was, thankfully, also fully clothed, just as he’d been when he’d changed form, wearing his Engineer’s coat, with his Engineer’s knife in his pocket and his quarterstaff hanging from his belt.

The makeshift collar Beth had made him was sitting on the hearth next to him.

Beth herself was standing by her bed, in her nightgown, hair wild from sleep, apparently having been woken by the noise he’d made during the reversal of his transformation.

Unsurprisingly, she was staring at him, eyes very wide. As he stared back, his wits still not quite fully gathered, she pinched herself, as if checking that she wasn’t dreaming.

Mac’s brain was fully functional first, and he put his hands up reassuringly, speaking apologetically and earnestly.

‘I’m so sorry, I promise there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for all of this-‘

‘I am an _idiot_.’

She sounded rather mortified, and was blushing pretty furiously.

That was _so_ not what he’d expected her to say. He was pretty sure the _huh?_ showed on his face.

Meanwhile, Beth kept rambling, half to herself, blush fading a bit as the initial shock faded.

‘…I should have known; you were far too smart and far too interested in science and engineering to _actually_ be a dog…when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ Her eyes widened, and she muttered a very unladylike curse. ‘ _That’s_ why you were stealing my books and notes, you were trying to spell something out, I assume using a Null Cipher…I’m sorry for scolding you…’

He had no idea what to say (perhaps his brain wasn’t at 100% yet), so the first thought that crystallized out of his brain awkwardly tumbled out.

‘You’re not an idiot. You’re the opposite of an idiot.’

That seemed to startle Beth out of her babble, and she blinked at him, before she smiled. He was pretty sure (it was hard to tell in the low light) that her cheeks pinked a little more too.

‘Thanks.’ She paused for a moment, before she gestured between Mac and the makeshift collar on the floor next to him. ‘Am I correct in assuming that you were cursed by Murdoc after you defeated him? And that your friends who needed food were Sir Jack and Bozer?’

For some really weird reason, that made him smile.

‘Yes to the second question, as for the first, not quite…it’s a little more complicated than that…’

* * *

‘…she told us that if we spent seven nights on a woman’s hearth, we’d be back to our real selves.’

Beth, sitting on the bench in her reading nook, a robe over her nightgown, but her hair still a mess, nodded in understanding as Mac finished the story, perched on the ottoman.

‘Sir Jack and Bozer can come stay here for a week, so they can change back; I’ll just need to talk to my parents-‘

Mac shook his head.

(He’d left out the dreams he’d had at The Cage Witch’s cottage, and the specificity of the curse, not wanting to make things _too_ weird.)

‘You’re not the right one for them.’ Great job, MacGyver. That was really weird. ‘Uh, I mean, um, you can’t help them…the curse was very, uh, specific.’

His ears were burning under his hair.

‘Oh.’ Beth made a face. ‘Magic is weird and arbitrary.’

He chuckled and nodded.

‘Oh, yeah, don’t I know it.’ After a moment of hesitation, he gestured at the window behind her. ‘Do you, uh, want me to try and sneak out?’

He didn’t really think he could, even if Professor V, one of his trainers when he was an apprentice Engineer, had drilled into him that impossible was not a scientific term.

But if he got caught sneaking out of the castle, _he’d_ be the one bearing the consequences, most likely, and she wouldn’t get caught up in it.

(The consequences would be much worse, but if she didn’t want to risk winding up a bride soon…)

Beth shook her head, surprisingly vehemently, fiercely.

‘No, you’ll get caught, and you know the consequences would be extremely unpleasant.’ She stood up, and he followed her cue. ‘We’ll explain the whole situation to my parents.’ She blushed again. ‘They’re reasonable people…’ She looked away, feeling a little too embarrassed and awkward to look him in the eye. ‘…they won’t make you marry me.’

She glanced back up at him when she’d finished speaking, cheeks still pink.

A voice in his head protested that that if she were wrong, it really wouldn’t be that bad. Not at all.

Mac told it to shut up.

It only half-listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini-cliffhanger, sorry! Tune in next time to see if a wedding is on the horizon!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘That’s her?’ Her name’s Riley Davis.’


	10. Chapter 10

It turned out that Beth was right.

Her parents had listened intently to the whole tale, and (quite hilariously) kicked themselves for not working out that he was a cursed dog.

Lord Michael had made a passable (but only just) attempt at being a stern, threatening father, but honestly seemed very happy that Mac had saved the Kingdom, was alive and was back.

(He and his wife gave him a room in the castle and told him that Jack and Bozer could stay there with him if needed. Lord Michael also loaned him the use of his workshop with a wry lament that he didn’t get to put it to as much use as he wanted to anyway.)

Lady Caitlyn, however, accompanied him to the chamber assigned to him, and stopped just outside the door and eyed him with a very stern look on her face, crossing her arms, tilting her chin up a little.

(He now knew where Beth got it from.)

‘Do not see or use my daughter as her title, or toy with her feelings, MacGyver.’ It was a warning and a threat. Then, her expression softened, a little smile appearing on her face, tilting her head to the right. ‘Though I suspect you won’t be facing my wrath.’

Mac held her gaze, spoke seriously.

‘I won’t, my lady. I promise.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to help her with her plans for the Houses, and after Kastrati last week, I am going to insist on continuing to escort her to her shift every day, and back again, but of course I won’t object if you insist on a chaperone-‘

Caitlyn shook her head, her little smile widening.

‘I know that won’t be necessary.’

Angus MacGyver was an honourable man, one of those people who just exuded goodness.

And he and her daughter needed some privacy to work things out, to let their connection grow and take shape, whether that shape wound up being platonic or romantic.

(She suspected the latter.)

(She knew her husband was already looking forward to having an Engineer for a son-in-law, and the next thing on her to-do list was to talk to him about not jumping too far ahead.)

* * *

Meanwhile, Bozer wandered through town rather aimlessly, coming across a tavern in the middle of the breakfast rush.

There was a slim woman with skin lighter than his but darker than Mac’s or Jack’s with curly dark hair taking orders, her back to Bozer.

A man who was probably still a little drunk from the night before slurred something that was probably meant to be flirtatious at her, then reached out and managed to grab her apron string. Quickly, she slapped his hand away, _hard,_ so that it thwacked him in his own face, whirled around and shot him a _look_ that said _seriously?_

His friends burst into raucous laughter, and one of them (who appeared to be more sober than the others) dropped an extra couple of dollars on the table and shot her a look that was apologetic, amused and appreciative, though not in a flirtatious or creepy way at all.

Bozer, however, hadn’t paid any attention to the by-play, because when she’d whirled around, he’d gotten a look at her face.

She was amazingly beautiful, and also familiar.

He knew that face. He’d dreamed about her, that night at The Cage Witch’s.

He’d found _her._

And she was really hot, awesome and badass.

And like it did so often in the presence of a really hot, awesome and badass woman, his brain kinda shut down and his mouth took over.

He sat there, tongue hanging out and staring.

‘Marry me and have my babies.’

* * *

That afternoon, at lunchtime, an excited Bozer dragged Jack through town, yipping that he’d found _her._

‘…I get it, Boze, I get it, it’s great, but couldn’t you have let me finish my lunch first?’

‘Mac says dogs only need to eat twice a day at most.’

Jack continued to grumble.

‘Well, I _ain’t_ a dog and I was _hungry_!’

Bozer, however, managed to tune out the rest of Jack’s grumbling as they’d arrived at the tavern.

_The_ woman was standing in the doorway of the tavern, arguing with a man wearing a stained shirt and smirking at her in a sleazy way.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist when she tried to walk away, and she rolled her eyes, stamping hard on his foot, then twisted her arm to break his grip, before kneeing him in the groin. As he staggered, she firmly closed the tavern door.

Bozer’s brain went off fishing again.

At least, it did until Jack turned to him, looking every bit as intimidating as Bozer had ever seen.

‘That’s her?’ Bozer just nodded, a very bad feeling building inside him. ‘Her name’s Riley Davis.’

Bozer gulped.

Jack’s surrogate daughter. Heck, Jack had probably taught her that trick she’d just used.

Uh, oh.

* * *

Jack, carrying a bucket full of water in his mouth, followed Diane, who was carrying two buckets, into her cottage.

She set down both buckets, and then removed the lid from her water barrel, before tipping first one, then the other bucket of water into it.

Jack was waiting with the third bucket and passed it to her as best as he could when she was done with the second, and Diane gave a little smile as she took it.

Jack then grabbed the other two buckets by their handles, opening his mouth very wide to get both handles in, and ran back out towards the well.

Diane’s smile widened a little and she shook her head with fond exasperation.

* * *

In Castle Lafayette’s jewel of a library, Mac and Beth stood at a very large table, neglecting the two chairs that remained at it.

(They’d moved the others out of the way.)

There was a large blackboard on wheels at the head of the table, and a huge roll of butcher’s paper spread out over it, with a schematic of the existing Houses of Healing and the planned extension set out on it.

Both of them had a pencil in hand. Mac tapped his pencil on the edge of the table, while Beth sketched something out on a notepad.

When she was finished, she held up the sketch.

‘…These are the kettles we use for sterilizing instruments. Ideally, I’d like to pipe hot water into them and have a fire going underneath to keep it boiling, but then we’d need to get substantial volumes of water through a single pipe, unless we’re going to fill this entire wall…’ She reached out and tapped a wall on the schematic. ‘…with pipes.’

Mac pursed his lips, taking the notebook and studying it for a moment, before studying the schematic and muttering under his breath. Then, he got up and started drawing a schematic on the left side of the blackboard, adding some maths on the right as he wrote.

Beth walked closer and studied his work as he wrote, tilting her head to the left, brow furrowing. Realization hit her, just as Mac nodded in satisfaction halfway through the schematic and maths, now quite sure that this was a workable solution, a little smile on his face with a bit of a smirk in it.

‘Not necessarily…’

* * *

Riley walked home from the tavern, exhausted after a long day of honest hard work.

She’d worked twelve hours, from 6 in the morning to 6 at night, serving the breakfast rush, the lunch rush and the start of the dinner rush.

Her work at the tavern wasn’t easy, and she had to deal with some creeps and assholes (thankfully, her mom had a keen eye for assholes with one unfortunate blind-spot when it came to choosing a man for herself and had taught her how to spot one across a crowded room…and Jack had taught her some tricks) and she came home tired and sweaty and smelling of beer, but her bosses were a nice married couple who treated their hired help well, her regulars tipped well and she made pretty good money.

The money was enough for her to rent a very small cottage (or, more accurately, half of a converted cottage) for herself. It was just two small rooms – a living/dining/cooking/sleeping space and a tiny bathroom, but it was all hers, a space of her own.

(It was very important for Riley, to have her own space, as much as she loved her mother and as close as they were. To have independence, and the chance to prove that she could do it and make it on her own.)

(Her mother’s job as a seamstress for Lady Lafayette paid more than Riley’s as a tavern waitress. Her mother wasn’t wealthy by any means, but she could support herself and afford some little luxuries.)

(She also had free healthcare, childcare – not that she needed it – and got lunch at the castle canteen every day. A small percentage of her wages were set aside for her in a special account at the bank for her retirement. Lord and Lady Lafayette looked after their staff.)

(Diane had a nicer home than Riley and would have been happy to let her stay with her, but she’d chosen to move out.)

(She could also have apprenticed to her mother as a seamstress, but frankly, Riley was pretty bad at sewing.)

(So, she’d struck out on her own. Tavern girl wasn’t exactly her dream job, but it was a job, and an honest one too.)

(Riley had briefly dabbled in thievery. That had, to say the least, not been a good time in her life.)

She was about halfway home when a black Labrador bounded up next to her. He grinned up at her, running in circles, chasing his own tail, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

In response, he just dropped to the ground, tongue lolling out ridiculously, and rolled over, then grinned at her again.

Riley gave a snort as he sprang up and kept running in front of her, occasionally circling around to follow his own tail again.

Still, when she walked through her front door, the Labrador having sketched out some kind of weird doggy bow outside, there was a little smile on her face, and she didn’t feel quite so tired.

* * *

On Jack’s fourth night in her home, Diane looked a little melancholy.

She seemed happy and content and satisfied with her life now, Jack had noted, which in turn made him happy, but everyone had their down days.

He glanced at the calendar on the wall, and got an explanation, or at least, half of one.

Diane had always been a little melancholy on this date, though she had never fully explained why. It had something to do with her no-good ex-husband, but she’d always left it at that. Jack hadn’t pushed.

Now, with the benefit of hindsight and more than a decade of wisdom, he wondered if he should have, at least a little, since it’d stayed with her for so long.

He had a surprisingly-strong urge to do that pushing now.

He shook himself a little, reminding himself that the whole being-a-dog thing made that kinda impossible, and that he’d lost (or thrown away) the right to do so years ago.

(The pang of regret was also surprisingly strong.)

Instead, Jack gave a whine of sympathy, and got up from his nice comfy spot by the fire, trotted over to her, and nudged her insistently with his nose, until Diane stopped staring into the middle distance, and looked down at him, shaking her head with fond exasperation.

She put down her mug of tea so that she could scratch behind his ears with one hand while rubbing the side of his neck with the other, and Jack grinned up at her, before rolling over to present his belly for rubbing.

Diane shook her head again, her knowing little smile on her face.

‘You don’t like being ignored, do you, boy?’

* * *

In Michael’s workshop, Mac and Beth were coating identical pieces of metal pipes with a clay mixture, ensuring that the layers were of varying thicknesses.

(They were doing some experiments on what insulation would be needed and how much – as they’d determined that insulation _would_ be needed – to keep the water flowing through the hot water pipes hot on its journey from the boilers to the tap.)

Beth looked up as she finished packing clay around a portion of pipe and at the slightly-battered clock with a large face that hung on one of the walls.

‘Mac?’ He looked up from where he was lining the already-clay-coated pipes up in the optimal way at the optimal spot between the furnace and the windows, so they’d dry as fast as possible. Beth smiled wryly, and held up her clay-covered hands, gesturing with her head towards the clock. ‘We really should get cleaned up for dinner.’

His brow furrowed.

‘We’ve still got half an hour.’

In response, Beth just gestured at herself (she had clay all over her hands and forearms, clay stains on her dress – an old one that she kept for situations like this – and there was a stray streak or two on her face), then at his head, her smile still wry and a little bit sheepish.

‘You have clay in your hair.’

* * *

Riley just shook her head and rolled her eyes in a way that was very exasperated and long-suffering, yet affectionate, as the ridiculous (but also really cute, and surprisingly funny and smart) Labrador ran after the stick again, his tongue hanging out.

He brought it back to her, clearly demanding she throw it again, and after raising her brows at him and snorting, she obliged.

(It was kind of hard to say no to eyes like that.)

It’d been three days since the dog had followed her home (and, she admitted to herself, cheered her up and brightened her day), and since then, he’d been there every morning when she left for work and followed her home every day, running circles around her with that silly grin or demanding that she throw a stick for him all the way to or from work or insisting that she gave him a belly rub or an ear-scratch.

He was clearly a bit nuts, and a little annoying, but he’d really grown on her. She actually looked forward to seeing him at the start and end of every day.

Riley tossed the stick again.

* * *

On Jack’s last day stuck as a dog, Mac, Jack and Bozer were in the laundry courtyard of the castle at midday, while the washerwomen were at lunch and after all the actual washing had been done for the day.

Bozer was paddling around in a tub of warm water (with soap and flea powder added), while Mac was sitting on a bench, Jack stretched out beside him.

Mac was eating a hearty sandwich, and he rolled his eyes when Jack whined up at him, loudly and repeatedly, his meaning very clear.

(Jack really didn’t accept the fact that most human food was not so great for dogs, and that he only needed to eat once or twice a day.)

Still, Mac pulled a slice of roast beef out of his sandwich and gave it to the Knight.

Then, he took a bite, chewed and swallowed, before speaking.

‘You know, I actually _miss_ your near-constant complaining and long-winded, pointless and typically irrelevant anecdotes.’ He paused, a teasing smirk appearing on his face as Jack tried to decide whether he should be mock-offended, genuinely touched and flattered or launch into a lecture as to why his anecdotes were always relevant, Mac just didn’t appreciate the subtlety. ‘It’s like white noise, helps me think.’

Bozer gave an _arf_ from the tub that sounded oddly like _nice one, bro!_

Jack, meanwhile, had decided on outraged and _mostly_ mock-offended.

Mac just shook his head, that little smirk still on his face, before he finished off his sandwich and the smirk shifted into a heartfelt smile.

‘In all seriousness, guys, it’s gonna be great to have you guys back as, well, you.’

(It’d also let him get to the bottom of as to why Jack kept shooting Bozer _looks_ , ones that made him look like the stereotype of his breed.)

(He was pretty sure he was missing something obvious.)

_It’s probably right in front of my eyes, isn’t it?_

_In my defence – A, you always miss something, and it’s usually what’s right in front of you, as my grandfather used to say. B, I will be the first to admit that I am not good with this sort of thing._

_I am really terrible at charades, after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet grown-up Riley! I hope you guys like my adaptation of her backstory, and Bozer being a goofball!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘…this is ridiculous and improbable and _how is this my life?’_
> 
> In other news – tomorrow, I start my PhD! This means a lot less time for me to write, but I will keep up with it as a stress relief, and simply because I enjoy it. It also means that updates will shift from being in the morning, Australian time, to being in the evening, about ten or eleven hours later.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, when Jack recovered his senses, after experiencing what had to be one of the weirdest things in his life (which was saying something, considering how many years he’d known Mac and how much time he spent with the Engineer), Diane was just stepping out of her bedroom, yawning and holding a mug of water in her hand.

When she saw him in the exact spot the dog she’d befriended and adopted (or, more accurately, had befriended and adopted _her_ ) over the last week had been when she went to sleep, her eyes widened, and she dropped the mug.

It shattered on the floor, and seemed to shake her out of her shock.

‘What-? How-? _Jack Dalton_?’

There was a lot in her voice. Shock, surprise. A little embarrassment. A thread of anger. Definitely hurt. And something else that Jack couldn’t quite pin down.

He held up his hands in a gesture that was hopefully placating, and gave a little grin, though his eyes were serious, even sorry. And a little angry with himself, a touch regretful, even wistful, perhaps.

‘It’s a long story, Diane.’

He suppressed the rather shameful urge he had to just get up and run, walk out the door, just like he had years ago.

He’d messed it up so badly last time, and it’d taken longer than he wanted to admit for those wounds to heal over. The scars still ached a little from time to time, and had much more and more frequently, he admitted, ever since that night of dreams-that-were-memories in The Cage Witch’s cottage.

Diane pinned him with her stare, second only to Matty in terms of sheer scariness.

‘I think you owe me this long story, Jack Dalton.’

He swallowed, and nodded, then started to speak.

‘Me, the Engineer Angus MacGyver - great kid, big brain, bigger heart, no sense of self-preservation and probably weirdest guy you’ll ever meet – and his best friend from when they were in short pants, Wilt Bozer – how he wound up with us is actually a really long story, and it ain’t really relevant – got sent on a quest to stop the big-bad, that evil wizard Murdoc…’

* * *

‘…and she said if I spent seven nights on your hearth, I’d be good ol’ me again.’ Jack shrugged and drained his cup of coffee. ‘You know the rest of the tale.’

He looked over at the woman sitting on the opposite side of the small table, a little hesitantly and finding himself far more worried about her reaction than he should be. Diane eyed him for a moment, her gaze seemingly going straight through him and to his soul, before she drained her coffee cup too, and set it down.

‘I need something stronger.’

Never mind that it was just after sunrise.

A dog had changed into a man on her hearth.

And the man happened to be the one who’d courted her years ago, had been the best man she’d ever had in her life by a country mile, had been the closest thing her daughter had ever had to a father, and who’d walked out on them, walked out of their lives, after defending them from her bastard of an ex-husband.

And even after he’d left them, even after all these years, she now realized that Jack Dalton _still_ had a little place in her heart.

Jack nodded in strong agreement, and pointed at her.

‘Best idea I’ve heard all day.’ He gestured at the door. ‘I’ll get the first round.’

* * *

In the mid-morning lull between breakfast and lunch, Riley opened her mother’s front door and walked inside.

(Her mother’s neighbour’s son – a boy of nine – had showed up at her tavern, with a message from her mother and a request to come to her home as soon as possible.)

She stopped just inside and stared at the tableau in front of her.

Her mother was sitting at the table and nibbling on a slice of apple, the rest of the apple on a plate with a knife in front of her.

That was not unusual or strange, and far from something that could make Riley stop and stare.

The thing that was making her stop and stare was the man sitting in the other chair at the table, a half-eaten apple in his hand, chewing with his mouth slightly open in a way that had disgusted and annoyed her and still did.

Riley had not seen Jack Dalton since that fateful night years ago at their old house in the capital.

Diane took one look at her daughter, and something gentle and affectionate and a little sad crossed her face, before she got up and walked over to Riley as Jack waved with a sheepish grin.

‘It turns out that the dog I took in wasn’t really a dog.’

Riley was utterly lost for words.

‘Mom…’

Her mother just got that gentle, affectionate, slightly sad look again, and reached out and took Riley’s hand and squeezed gently. Jack respectfully looked away, taking another loud bite of his apple and humming to himself as he ate.

Riley chanced a glance at him, then looked back at her mother, who shrugged. Riley read shock and anger and hurt in her mother’s eyes, but also something softer, either hope or wistfulness; which one it was, Riley couldn’t decide.

(She doubted her mother could either.)

Jack’s apparently magical return had stirred up a hornet’s nest of emotions in her, too.

Anger, deeper and stronger than her mother’s. Hurt, which might well go deeper than Diane’s too.

And anger at herself, too.

Anger that his return and that grin and stupid chewing had stirred up some kind of tug of affection. Anger that those wounds still ached a little, even after all these years and all her efforts to stitch them closed.

Anger that when she’d seen him sitting there, part of her had just wanted to throw her arms around him, bury her head in his chest and be hugged back like a little girl. Like a daughter.

Riley glanced once more at Jack, who had gotten down to the core of his apple and was really obviously watching the mother and daughter and pretending not to, before glancing back at her mother, looking into her eyes, which were full of understanding and acceptance.

‘I…I have to get back to the tavern, help prep for lunch rush…’

Diane just nodded, and leaned forward to kiss her daughter’s forehead.

‘I’ll see you later, baby girl.’

Riley gave a little smile at her mom, and hurried off.

At the table, Jack drooped noticeably.

* * *

After a long shift and an emotionally exhausting day, Riley trudged home, and as she always did, came across the silly Black Labrador.

Today, he’d acquired a bright purple ball, slightly battered, from somewhere, and was sitting there in her path with it in his mouth, looking hopefully at her, a doggy grin on his face.

Despite her terrible day, Riley found herself holding her hand out for the ball anyway, shaking her head in a way that was long-suffering and fond.

‘You’ll just annoy me all the way home if I don’t, won’t you, boy?’

* * *

When they reached her door, Riley was feeling much better.

She was still not convinced that there wasn’t something a little _off_ with this dog’s brain, but he had a really good heart in there.

She paused at the door, and called out to him from where he was waiting at the gate to her very tiny front yard, muttering to herself.

‘You can’t _possibly_ be cursed too…’ Aside from Jack, there were rumours going around about Lady Bethany’s champion, the lean Golden Retriever that had escorted her around town every day for a week, then disappeared. Some said that he’d died heroically defending her from bandits on the edge of town, or, more often, from Ralph Kastrati and his friends. Some said that the dog was actually the Engineer MacGyver (who was very blonde and leanly built and accompanied the Lady about town, escorting her to and from work daily, ever since the dog had disappeared) under a curse. ‘Come in, boy. You can stay with me.’

Riley tossed the ball in her hands into her home (she’d tried to give it back, but the dog had put it back in her hand and grinned, like he intended it to be a gift).

With another doggy grin, the Labrador bounded inside.

* * *

As Mac worked on a modified boiler for the Houses of Healing in Michael’s workshop, he heard footsteps (they were already very familiar, not that he was going to admit that out-loud), and looked up to find Beth standing in the doorway, wearing a simple green gown (she had the day off) and framed by the rising sun, her braid hanging over one shoulder.

(It was a _very_ nice image to start one’s day with.)

Mac smiled, suddenly very aware of the grease stains on his hands and the streak he could feel on his cheek and the fact that he was wearing what had to be a really uncoordinated outfit.

(He’d grabbed the first shirt and pair of trousers he could find and literally gotten dressed in the dark.)

(He’d been hit by an idea at 5:30 in the morning and had just _had_ to make a start on it.)

He’d just raised a hand (still holding a wrench) and was about to wish her good morning, when his stomach growled.

Loudly.

Twice.

Beth put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.

‘You haven’t eaten anything yet, have you, Mac?’

He gave a sheepish little grin. His stomach then chose that moment to growl again, even louder.

Beth’s eyes narrowed further, and she strode into the workshop and jabbed at the air in front of his chest.

‘ _You know_ that’s not good for you!’ She held her hand out, with something fierce and determined in her eyes and the tilt of her chin. A very loud and insistent voice in his head told him to do what she told him to do. Obediently, Mac handed the wrench over, and Beth set it down on a workbench. ‘We’re getting you some food, now.’

* * *

And that was how Mac wound up sitting in a tavern close to the castle at 6:30 in the morning in a grease-stained shirt, sharing a platter of breakfast foods with the future Lady Lafayette.

It was also, unbeknownst to them, the start of the rumour that they were getting married.

(Or, at least the first one.)

(The tavern-keepers’ daughter, a sweet girl of six with a two blonde pigtails, had asked her mother whether Lady Beth – much beloved by the ordinary citizens of Lafayette, and especially the children of Lafayette Town – was getting married to the really nice Engineer Mac, who, her friends who lived at the orphanage said, had fixed the leaky ceiling and the plumbing problems _and_ done something to the stove which meant they didn’t have to wait so long for breakfast every morning anymore.)

(She hadn’t been very subtle, being six, but Mac and Beth, engrossed in a conversation that had started with their plans for the boilers and somehow digressed to Mac’s fifteenth attempt to build a self-pulling plough at the age of fourteen, did not notice.)

(Neither facts escaped the notice of several other tavern patrons, mostly castle employees or carpenters and masons and a couple of blacksmiths newly hired to extend the Houses of Healing and expected for their first briefing in two hours. Nor did they escape the girl’s mother, who just smiled at her daughter, something knowing in her eyes.)

(The girl had taken that as a yes, and told all of her friends.)

* * *

The morning after his seventh night, Bozer shook himself a little as that extremely weird sensation passed, got up and dusted himself off, straightening his shirt collar, before grinning at Riley, who was just sitting up in bed.

‘Good morning, my lady!’

Her eyes widened and she appeared much more awake very quickly. She blinked twice, as if to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, as Bozer kept grinning at her in his most charming, slightly arrogant way (because that’s what the ladies liked, apparently), then swore. Loudly. Repeatedly.

‘… _another one_? Seriously?’

Bozer’s expression turned sympathetic. Riley had had quite a shock to her system.

‘How about I make you breakfast, honeybun?’

Her eyes turned stormy, and she got up and pointed at the door.

‘Get out!’

* * *

Five minutes later, Bozer was standing outside the firmly closed and locked front door, pleading.

‘Please, Riley, I can explain-‘

She was muttering to herself and he could hear the sound of pacing.

‘…this is ridiculous and improbable and _how is this my life_?’

He knocked again.

‘Go away!’

Bozer sighed.

Well, that was a really clear statement of intent. She clearly didn’t want him to stay.

Thus, he trudged off to go find Mac and tell him the ‘good’ news.

Even if it didn’t seem quite so good anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens and moves along! I hope you don’t think Riley is reacting unreasonably – I think it’s pretty reasonable to react to a guy whom you’ve never met suddenly appearing on your hearth when you thought he was a dog, after having had the shock she had with Jack! We’ll get a better look into her head in the next chapter. 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘He’s my father.’
> 
> So, I just watched the promo for the next episode, and I have a fan theory that could either be reasonably expected (but frankly, in my honest opinion, disappointing if not well-handled), or absolutely nuts (and potentially give us some really good character development…as well as a lot of drama). Now, although I don’t think the promo is all that shippy at all (it’s more…Desi is a badass and intimidates everyone else, and she has same-but-different priorities to Jack), if you watch it through ‘shippy’ goggles, I think you could read it as her being a love interest for Mac (which I’m not so sure how to feel about – on one hand, the poor fellow deserves all the happiness, especially after Nasha, on the other hand, I’m not happy about replacing a bromance with a romance and am not so fond of the love/hate dynamic)…or some kind of potential for Desi/ _James MacGyver_? (Yes, I’m basing that solely off the fact that she could possibly be better acquainted with James than they all think and the fact that they meet her under ‘surprising’ circumstances – which might just be Mac getting out of the shower, which is frankly not very interesting.) Tell me I’m mad? (To be honest, I think the second one has a lot more potential for development and interest – James is a bit of an ass, but something that would humanize him and give him more dimension as a character – and show he’s moving on from Ellen and her death/is dealing properly with his grief – I think would really add to his character more than having a girlfriend would add to Mac’s. Also, Mac trying to deal with having a ‘stepmum’ would be interesting and give rise to lots of the funny/silly/absurd scenarios that the show has such fun with.)


	12. Chapter 12

Late one afternoon, three days after Bozer had been changed back, Beth showed up in her father’s workshop, having changed out of her uniform into another one of her simple dresses, this one blue. She was also holding a letter.

She walked into the workshop and came over to where Mac was tinkering with a part for the boiler on one of the workbenches.

‘How’s it going?’

He gave a wry, slightly sheepish smile.

‘I fixed the catching fire problem.’

Beth raised an eyebrow.

‘There was a catching fire problem?’

The smile turned more sheepish.

‘Yeah, I found out the hard way this morning.’

His eyebrows were a little singed.

Beth sighed and shook her head in a way that was definitely fondly exasperated, and then fell silent for a bit, watching him work, before she bit her lip, then spoke, holding up the letter, voice hesitant.

‘Mom and Dad got a letter from Matty and the Commander of the Order of Engineers today.’ Mac had gotten one too, a reply to his report, a ‘glad you’re not dead and thank you for saving the Kingdom’ and an approval of his request to take all of his vacation time (of which there was quite a lot), all in one. Beth paused hesitantly again, fidgeting her hands a bit, before continuing. ‘Are you, um, related to the Engineer Commander?’

She held up the letter, which was signed Matilda Webber and James MacGyver.

Mac nodded slowly, putting down the part he was working on.

‘He’s my father.’

There was a lot in there, enough that Beth’s expression grew soft and sorry and sympathetic, and she reached out and put a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently.

(Mac really didn’t know how he felt about his dad most of the time. Angry, bitter, hurt, hopeful, like that little boy who’d idolized him and wanted to be him and just wanted his approval and affection and love and treasured every little scrap of it…)

He looked down at her hand resting on his sleeve, then up at her, as she spoke, her voice soft and apologetic.

‘Your relationship with your father is…complicated.’

It was more of a statement than a question.

Mac gave a snort, a little bitter, a little angry and mostly sardonic, as if to say, _yeah, to say the least._

Then, he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees bent, and pulled out his Engineer’s knife.

Keeping his hands busy always helped. He used to fiddle with Nasha’s necklace, but once he was a man again, it’d gone into a keepsake box, where it’d be safe and protected and could be taken out as a reminder from time-to-time. It’d join other precious tokens when he returned to the capital, eventually, to gather his belongings for his next posting. It no longer felt right to wear it around his neck, something that he felt Nasha could understand.

(Would want, even.)

Without a word, Beth sat down next to him.

There was silence for a moment, before Mac broke it, his voice full of that complex mix of emotions he had about his father.

‘I looked up to him, idolized him, when I was a kid, especially after my mom died.’ He kept fiddling with his Engineer’s knife, staring at it, but not really seeing it. ‘He was emotionally distant and completely convinced of his own intellectual superiority, but he was smart and tough and a brilliant Engineer who could make anything out of anything.’ The pliers flicked up, then down, followed by the fish scaler. ‘Then a couple of days before my tenth birthday, he just left. Took almost nothing with him, didn’t even leave a note.’ Beth reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. She knew what happened after this, to some extent. Mac’s maternal grandfather had raised him, and he’d grown up and become an Engineer himself. ‘I only found out last year that he hadn’t gone off to another province to start a new family, or acquired amnesia and couldn’t find his way back home, or was simply a terrible father and human being who didn’t care about his only child…’ He’d clearly considered, at various points in time, all three to be explanations for his father’s disappearance. ‘…but that he’d gone on a long, top-secret mission around Phoenix, tracking down a rogue elite Knight, combating Murdoc’s forces and gathering intelligence…’ His voice grew particularly angry and hurt. ‘…and that he was the Engineer Commander.’ Mac put down his Engineer’s knife. ‘He’d been influencing the course of my life for years, and I wouldn’t have even known who the Commander was if Matty hadn’t stepped in.’

That was particularly angry and hurt and bitter.

It’d been a huge blow, to find out that his dad had known where he was and what he was doing for all these years, had kept tabs on him and even pulled strings to influence his life. He and Jack had been partnered together, it turned out, by specific order of his father, for example.

And it’d been a bigger blow to find out that his dad had intended for him to not know the truth for as long as possible, that those breadcrumbs that he’d thought his father was leaving for him were really Matty’s work.

It’d felt like a betrayal. A massive betrayal.

A far bigger betrayal than James MacGyver abandoning his son because he couldn’t bear to look at a reminder of his dear departed wife any longer, and wanted a new family and a fresh start.

(It would be a lot simpler, and hurt a lot less, Mac thought, if his dad was just an asshole.)

(Unfortunately, James MacGyver was a hero of the Kingdom who was badly damaged by his wife’s death and was what Bozer called ‘emotionally constipated’, with a really terrible sense of priorities and the admittedly-often-factually-correct belief that he was the smartest person in any given room.)

‘I’m so sorry, Mac.’

Beth had let go of his shoulder, and her hand was now resting on his. The warm weight was comforting and pleasant and just _nice._

Like a quiet evening in front of the fireplace or a campfire, toasting those sweet, soft candies that Bozer had invented and named ‘marshmallows’.

He managed something that was almost a very small smile and a half-shrug.

‘We agreed to a clean slate and starting again, but…’

He shrugged.

They had a really long way to go, and Mac sometimes wondered if they were making any progress.

His dad still kept secrets, was emotionally distant and completely convinced of his own intellectual superiority.

Mac still wasn’t sure if he actually trusted the man.

Beth squeezed his hand.

‘I…I’m sorry, Mac, and…I hope the situation improves for you.’ He managed a weak little smile at her at that, and without even thinking about it, turned his hand over so he could grasp hers, too. That made her smile back at him. ‘I’ll ask Mama Colton to make pie or breakfast items or casserole or steak or whatever food would make you feel even slightly better for dinner.’

His smile widened a bit, grew a little steadier, and he squeezed her hand in thanks.

‘Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?’

It’d been his favourite comfort food since he was a very small child, when his mother used to make it for him.

Beth smiled and nodded.

‘Of course!’ She let go of his hand and got up. ‘I’ll be back in an hour and a half.’

* * *

True to her word, Beth was back in an hour and a half, holding a tray with two bowls of tomato soup and a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches on it.

A couple of questions later, he found out that she’d helped prepare the food, since she actually knew how to cook.

(It was an unusual skill for a Lady to have, but apparently, her own mother and Mama Colton had taught her when she was young – on the grounds that it was an important and essential skill, and because Beth had had an insatiable curiosity, particularly about science, and cooking was just applied edible chemistry.)

_Yeah, I know what you’re thinking._

_Aren’t I a terrible cook, but a pretty handy chemist? If cooking is applied edible chemistry, how does that work?_

_It’s true, I’m not trusted to prepare meals, and for admittedly good reasons._

_But it has nothing to do with my actual ability to cook food. That bit’s just chemistry._

_The problem is, it’s an awful lot of chemisty, and then I get ideas, and forget about the actual food prep, and…_

_Well, 90% of the time, something catches fire._

They ate their dinner at a cleared workbench and swapped childhood stories.

‘…you turned a _quarter_ of a cornfield into popcorn?’

Mac gave a sheepish little smirk as Beth stared at him, astounded, as he finished telling the tale of the time he’d tried to build a mechanical scarecrow.

‘Yup. I was very popular among the local kids for ages, but Farmer Wilson never forgave me.’

Beth shook her head, giggling, before looking back up at him and poking him in the sternum.

‘You, Angus MacGyver, are _ridiculous_.’

* * *

A week after the letter arrived, Mac and Beth found themselves in the middle of a somewhat tense and pretty awkward house-warming party.

(And the fact that they – neither of them being particularly socially-competent – could tell easily said a lot.)

Mac and Bozer had just moved into a newly-rented cottage fairly close to the castle, since Mac still had seven weeks of vacation left and he and Bozer didn’t want to live in the castle for that long. Bozer had insisted that they have Jack and Beth over for dinner (perfectly fine and not awkward at all), as well as Diane and Riley, since Bozer said that he owed them both a really good meal, considering the whole curse-breaking thing.

(It was a fair point, but at the same time, this was the most awkward dinner party Mac had ever been to.)

At the moment, Bozer was bustling about in the kitchen, having told Mac (who made a decent kitchen assistant if someone kept him on track) to go focus on wooing his Lady (thankfully reasonably-discreetly, considering he was _Bozer_ ), and politely turned down both Beth and Diane’s polite offers.

(Neither Jack or Riley offered one. Jack was described by Bozer as a terrible cook and forbidden entry into his kitchen, and Riley had just said that she could burn water.)

(Mac wasn’t sure if that was an excuse, or if she was still pissed off at his best friend, which wasn’t exactly an _unreasonable_ reaction in his book, considering the two major shocks she’d had, and the fact that his best friend did tend to have brain-fades around, well, women like Riley.)

(He’d wound up being sent to explain the whole curse thing to Riley, and to relay an apology for the whole scenario on the behalf of both Jack and Bozer, and – on their insistence – a plea that she didn’t cause them bodily harm.)

(He had firmly maintained that Jack and Bozer should deliver the apology themselves, particularly since he didn’t actually know the specifics of _what_ they were apologizing for, but Jack had said – with a distinctly regretful and guilty look on his face – that she really didn’t seem ready to see or talk to him yet. Bozer had told Mac that he was just ‘laying the groundwork’ for him, and that he’d apologize to Riley personally later, possibly with a giant cake.)

(Riley had just snorted at that bodily harm bit, and rolled her eyes in a way that actually seemed a tiny bit fond, so Mac was pretty sure that Jack and Bozer’s physical health was assured.)

Mac and Beth exchanged a glance, as the conversation died off.

Namely, as Jack finished telling his third story of the night.

(And they’d only been there for half an hour.)

The air was thick with tension.

There was tension between Jack and Diane, which mostly seemed to be the good kind. The two of them would glance at the other one when they weren’t looking, with regret and wistfulness and a bit of hope in their eyes. Once or twice, Diane had given a snort of laughter at one of Jack’s tales, and seemed to almost lean closer, as if to touch his arm, perhaps, before stopping herself, looking a bit like she was admonishing herself, reminding herself of something. Similarly, Jack had opened his mouth once or twice to say something, before closing it again, firmly, and looking like he was telling himself off in his mind.

There was tension between Jack and Riley, too, which was definitely not the good kind. They talked, interacted, in a way that was friendly enough, but wasn’t particularly substantial either. Riley seemed determined to keep him at a distance without making it seem like she was doing that, while Jack, after she deflected his attempts to start some kind of _serious_ conversation with her twice, wilted noticeably (at least to Mac), though he kept trying.

(He guessed this was probably what it was like when Jack and Diane had started courting, all those years ago.)

There was tension between Riley and Bozer too, even though Bozer seemed to be not quite interpreting it correctly.

She was currently sipping a drink that Mac knew for a fact Bozer had concocted specifically for her, using what he’d learned about her preferences when he was a dog. She’d looked sceptical when Bozer had handed it to her (with a very long spiel about exactly what he’d put in it, but thankfully no creepy or weird statements), but had taken one sip, and obviously found it to be delicious, as she’d immediately taken another one, her eyes lighting up. Now, she was occasionally looking at Bozer like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve, while Bozer grinned in the way Mac knew he did when he was infatuated.

To top things off, Jack was occasionally _looking_ at Bozer like he had when they were still dogs (on the bright side, Mac now understood _why_ ), while Diane was studying every interaction between Riley and Bozer carefully, but quite subtly.

As Jack tried to break the awkward silence by asking anyone if they wanted to hear about the time he killed a tiger-bear (which everyone, even Beth, had heard at least twice already), Mac and Beth exchanged another glance over their drinks.

They had to do _something._

Beth, somewhat awkwardly, just started talking before Jack could launch into the story, smiling a little too widely.

‘If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?’

Everyone turned to stare at her, but no-one said anything, so Mac stepped in, probably also awkwardly and too enthusiastically.

‘Erwin Schrödinger.’

Schrodinger was a famous Engineer who’d come up with a thought experiment involving a cat in a box with poison. While the box was sealed, the cat was simultaneously alive and dead.

Jack looked incredulously at him.

‘Is this Schrodinger guy alive or dead?’

Mac gave a little smirk.

‘Actually, kinda both.’

Beth was the only one who laughed at his joke.

_In hindsight, this was not a good idea._

_The two most awkward people at an awkward dinner party should not try and make it less awkward._

_I think we just made it worse._

* * *

Riley sipped her (delicious) drink in the middle of what had to be the most awkward and tense dinner party ever, as Jack and Mac bickered about something (Bozer occasionally chipping in from the kitchen) and Lady Bethany (who’d insisted they just call her Beth) and her mother had a friendly conversation about dress fashions.

Now that the initial shock, or rather, shocks, had passed, she’d realized that she might have overreacted a bit to Bozer’s transformation.

Yeah, that _line_ he’d given her and the pet name were pretty presumptuous and creepy, like those guys who came into the tavern or drunkenly walked the streets after her shifts and would _not_ take no for an answer, but he _had_ gone away when she’d told him to.

And he’d sent Mac with an apology and a plea to not kick his ass.

And sent her a really nice, actual dinner invitation and made this really good drink, which was both kinda creepy (he’d noticed a _lot_ about her) but also really sweet.

Then again, after hearing the whole story, and learning that it wasn’t _a_ woman needed to break the curse, but _the_ woman, a very specific woman whose identity had come to them in a dream or a vision of some kind…with her mom being Jack’s ex and what was going on between Mac and Lady Bethany, it at least wasn’t completely idiotic for Bozer to jump to conclusions about the non-existent _them._

(Particularly since Jack probably wasn’t going to be her mom’s _ex_ for much longer, with the way they were looking at each other. Riley didn’t know quite how to feel about that.)

(Still, a voice in her head pointed out, Jack, even with the whole leaving thing, was still the best man Diane Davis had ever had in her life. The best man _they_ had ever had in their lives.)

(Every couple of days since he’d changed back into a man, he stopped by at Riley’s tavern, often with Mac or some Knights or Town Guards, had a drink and a meal and tipped generously no matter who his waitress was, or he’d wave at Diane and the other seamstresses from where he was training with other Knights in the castle courtyard, giving them a hand with carrying large heavy objects.)

Bozer _did_ seem like a really good guy, most of the time.

After dinner, she helped him carry all the dishes back to the kitchen, hoping that he’d see it for what it was (a polite gesture and perhaps a bit of an olive branch) and nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More adaptations of canon to this AU, and an insight into Riley’s head. I hope you guys enjoyed this! 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘You think I’m cute?’


	13. Chapter 13

A couple of days after the most awkward dinner party of all time, Mac and Jack walked back into town, laden down with freshly-chopped firewood.

Jack was carrying a basket in one hand, and the axe in the other, while Mac had his quarterstaff slung across his shoulders, a basket of firewood hanging off either side.

They walked towards Diane’s house to deliver the firewood (one basket was for Diane, one for Riley and one for Jack’s little cottage), and as they did, Mac glanced at the older man.

(He was determined to make sure that Jack was as happy as he could be, to try and help Jack fix his past mistakes.)

(He deserved it. Really, really deserved it.)

‘You know, I remember you once told me, that it can take a man years to realize he’s made a mistake.’

That had been in relation to Mac’s dad, in the middle of what had turned out to be Matty’s breadcrumb trail.

Jack looked over at the blonde, who had definitely not pulled off false-casual well. It sounded really false, which was pretty par for the course with him.

(Though, Mac _was_ a terrible liar, but he was surprisingly good at bluffing bad guys. It was a weird dichotomy.)

Mac just kept looking back at him, rather stubbornly. Jack sighed. Once Mac had decided something needed fixing, he wouldn’t stop until he’d fixed it.

(Which was why he was on his fifty-seventh attempt to build a self-pulling plough and counting.)

‘Yeah, Diane’s been skipping ‘round my head a little bit.’ Jack paused. ‘Maybe more than a little bit.’

‘Hey, maybe that’s a good thing.’ Mac readjusted his burden slightly. ‘I mean, you two looked like you were having fun at the party. And I’ve seen you guys talking at the castle.’

Jack sighed. The sound had something distinctly sad and regretful to it.

‘I dunno, man. I screwed up real bad. It’s not pretty, Mac. It’s not something that can be fixed with _I’m sorry_.’

Mac shook his head.

‘Here’s your trouble: _I’m sorry_ doesn’t fix anything. It just starts the conversation.’ He paused. ‘With both of them.’ After all, both Diane and Riley were receiving a firewood delivery, and for the second time, too. He shrugged. ‘And as bad as it might be…doesn’t mean you can’t try.’

Jack was lost in thought for a moment, before he smiled at the blonde and good-naturedly bumped him in the shoulder.

‘Your grandpa teach you all that?’

Mac smiled, a little sheepishly.

‘Yeah.’

* * *

An exhausted Riley trudged home after working another twelve hour shift, with food splatters and beer stains on her dress, and, she was sure, some in her hair.

(There’d been a bar-fight. Or, more accurately, two, because it was _that_ sort of day.)

She trudged inside her home, and had just sprawled out on her back in bed, when there was a knock on the door. A weird-sounding knock.

With a groan, she got up and opened it, to find Bozer knocking on the door with a wooden spoon held in his mouth, as his hands were full holding a large earthenware pot with a basket of fresh-smelling bread rolls balanced on top of it.

He grinned up at her around the wooden spoon, and she raised her eyebrows and just took it out of his mouth.

Bozer grinned wider, in a way that was honestly kinda sweet and cute, and held up the pot and bread.

‘Heard you were having a tough day, so…’ He gave a half-shrug, the grin taking on some of the character of a smirk. ‘My mama’s famous casserole makes everything better!’

Riley gave a little smile, and opened her door more so he could come in. Bozer put down the casserole and bread on the table, then started grabbing bowls, a ladle and a pair of spoons, as well as a butter knife for the bread (there was a knob of butter in a little dish in the basket), from her meagre kitchen cupboards.

She wasn’t all that surprised that Bozer had heard about the terrible day at the tavern. He and Mac lived only half a block away.

She also wasn’t surprised that Bozer had shown up on her doorstep with a casserole either.

(Bozer showed affection through food, clearly. And he had a lot of time on his hands – Riley wasn’t actually sure what Bozer _did_ aside from keep his and Mac’s house and cook. And he had a questionable understanding of boundaries, especially when it came to her.)

(She was actually really grateful for that right now. Besides, he wasn’t being creepy or weird, just doing what a good friend would. Riley was pretty sure that Bozer was a really good friend.)

She took a very large bite of casserole, swiping a generous amount of butter on her bread.

‘This is really good, Bozer.’

He grinned back at her in the way that was nearly a smirk.

Internally, Riley groaned and rolled her eyes.

‘Only the best for you, my princess!’

* * *

As they walked away from the Houses of Healing, where they’d just turned over the final blueprints, recipes and instructions to the carpenters, stonemasons and blacksmiths working on the renovations, Beth looked up at Mac and smiled.

‘Thank you, for all your help.’

He smiled back.

‘It was my pleasure.’ It really had been. That made her smile a little wider. ‘What’s your next project?’

It was more than a casual question, and probably sounded overly-eager, but she didn’t seem to mind that at all. Instead, she just smiled even wider, also looking very enthusiastic.

‘Sewers.’ He raised an eyebrow, and she lifted a shoulder, looking a bit sheepish. ‘I think it’s easier to explain with visual aids…’

* * *

Mac examined the map of Lafayette Town’s sewage system, which had been drawn on very thin, translucent paper and laid on top of a map of the town itself, laid out on the huge table in the library.

Beth pointed something out with a stick, as she was too short to reach into the very centre of the table.

‘As you can see, although the castle and the older, wealthier parts of town have excellent sewage disposal systems…’

He nodded.

‘…the newer parts of town have, at best, mediocre systems.’

Beth nodded.

‘They’re prone to blocking, flooding or leaking.’ That was not good for the health of the residents of those areas, spreading disease or hastening its spread. She indicated the newest portion of town, where most of the refugees from the shadow war with Murdoc had taken up residence, drawn to the seemingly-safer province seat. ‘And there’s no sewage system here at all. We have a disproportionately large number of patients from here.’

Mac nodded, his brain already running through potential solutions, tossing some out immediately, retaining others for further consideration and discussion with Beth.

He pulled out his Engineer’s knife and smiled with a touch of a smirk.

‘Well, I’ve still got six weeks of vacation left.’

Beth clapped her hands together, and smiled brilliantly at him, looking delighted and eager and just very _happy._

_This is an excellent use of my first proper vacation in years._

_A, I like helping people. And I have a skill, a gift, as my father would call it, and so, I have a duty to use it to help people._

_B, well, if she’s going to smile at me like that…_

_I’d probably dig the sewers myself, between you and me._

* * *

‘A little to the left.’

Jack, with a grunt of effort, moved the window frame to the left. On the other side, inside her home, Diane lifted the hammer, grabbed a nail from the pouch hanging from her waist, and reached forward to secure the frame in place.

* * *

After work one evening, when it was still light outside (it was almost Midsummer, and the days were long now), Riley stood in a local park, holding a metal stick with a small, thick, flat piece of metal at the bottom.

Bozer was holding another identical stick, which he’d called a golf club. Mac had apparently made this set.

(Riley had heard a little bit about golf, which was a popular sport in the northern provinces, but had never seen a golf club, either in pictures or in person.)

(She figured that as it was an ‘exotic’ sport here in Lafayette, most people hadn’t, and golf clubs wouldn’t be easy to come by, hence why Mac had had to make them.)

Riley focused on her target, a low barrel some thirty feet away, filled with water, and whacked the little leather-wrapped bundle of old dried beans at her feet hard with the golf club, sending it into the barrel with a splash.

Bozer cheered and clapped.

‘Go Riley!’ Then, he stepped up to where she’d been standing, and dropped his own dried bean bundle down on the mark, then stepped back, lined up his shot, and swung. The bean bundle hit the edge of the barrel, but didn’t go in. ‘Aww, come on!’

Riley laughed, and pulled another bean bundle out of the pouch on her hip.

‘Regretting teaching me to play?’

Bozer just grinned.

‘Never!’

She successfully got the bean bag into the barrel, with a particularly vigorous splash.

She still wasn’t sure what the rules of this game were (it was a Mac and Bozer invention from their childhood), but as long as she was winning…

* * *

When the sun had gone down too far for the game to continue, Riley and Bozer packed up the equipment, emptying the barrel onto a tree’s roots.

Bozer tossed the now-mostly-dry bean bags at Riley, who packed them away in a large leather bag and pulled the drawstring shut. He smirked as he threw, and she caught.

‘Told you the game would be fun!’

Riley couldn’t help but smile. Bozer’s (ridiculous) enthusiasm was kind of contagious.

‘Yeah, I had my doubts, but it was.’

The smirk shifted a little, into something that reminded her unpleasantly of sleazy guys from the tavern.

‘It’s just like _my_ game. My game’s like a Venus flytrap.’ Those were plants that Mac had enthusiastically regaled Bozer, Jack and Riley about when Bozer and Mac had joined Jack on his usual visit to her tavern two days ago. He’d been reading about exotic plants, for no apparent reason. ( _Because he’s Mac,_ as Jack and Bozer had said, was an explanation that Riley thought she now understood. The guy was _weird._ Really nice, and possibly the most obviously _good_ person she’d ever met, but really, really weird.) ‘You get close, you get bit. And once you’re bit, you’re mine.’

Riley just crossed her arms and shot him a _look._

‘So you’re a carnivorous plant that’s gonna slowly digest me?’

Bozer made a face, as if his brain had caught up with his mouth and realized that she was right.

‘Uh, uh…’

Riley shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, looking Bozer in the eye.

(His flirtatious, pushy and frankly slightly creepy behaviour was really off-putting, annoying and frustrating, but she’d also discovered that it was really hard to be actually _angry_ at Bozer, even if she probably should be.)

(It was probably at least partly because he wasn’t like that _all_ the time, and she got plenty of glimpses of what she was sure was the _real_ Bozer.)

(The _real_ Bozer didn’t have a malicious or cruel bone in his body. He was _good._ He was loyal and caring and sweet and funny, and always tried to provide joy and comfort and light for the people he cared about, and would do everything he could to look after them. That usually entailed stuffing them with delicious food and joking around, making them laugh, in usually silly ways.)

(That was the Bozer who made her dinner – far better than anything she could rustle up – after a long day, taught her to play ridiculous but also really fun games, and made her laugh with his perfect impression of the stuffy bank manager.)

(It just seemed that his infatuation with her or whatever it was had completely overridden his brain, his sense of morality and his _sense_ full stop.)

So, instead of just storming off, or yelling at him or slapping him or something like that (because if she hadn’t gotten all those glimpses at real Bozer, only heard the lines and saw those smirks, she’d definitely have done that), Riley tried to help Bozer see the mistake he’d made and was making and would probably keep making.

‘Let me ask you something. Do any of these lines ever work?’

Bozer looked sheepish, and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Honestly? No.’

Riley gestured with her hand as if to say, _there you go,_ before crossing her arms again and looking him straight in the eye again.

‘Then why are you pretending to be a player?’ She shrugged. ‘I mean, you’re cute, funny, smart. Just be yourself.’

Bozer blinked twice at her, then grinned.

‘You think I’m cute?’

Riley rolled her eyes. Of course he’d fixate on that. She probably hadn’t gotten through.

‘Kinda.’

Bozer grinned wider.

‘Kinda’s good, I can work with kinda!’

Yeah, she hadn’t gotten through. Riley picked up the bag of bean bags, then tucked the golf clubs under her arm.

‘Slow down, Bozer, I was just making a point, okay? Now, let’s go before the mosquitos come out.’

Behind her, carrying the barrel, Bozer just kept talking to himself.

‘She thinks I’m cute. _She thinks I’m cute_!’

Riley rolled her eyes again and sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I got the ‘balance’ in Riley’s thoughts on Bozer right. I tried to get into her head in the first half or so of S1. 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Dad, what are you doing here?’


	14. Chapter 14

Three days before Midsummer, Mac got home after his very early morning training session in the Knights’ training grounds (they’d given him – and Jack – permission to use it), sweaty and a little sore, but feeling good the way one always did after a good training session.

His dad was standing outside his and Bozer’s front door.

Mac pushed aside his annoyance and slight anger at the fact that the elder MacGyver had just shown up, unannounced.

The fact that his dad was standing at the front door and waiting instead of sitting at his kitchen table, having broken in while Bozer was still asleep, was probably a sign of progress, anyway.

‘Dad, what are you doing here?’

His father held up a scroll, with the symbol of the Order of Engineers on the wax seal, then held it out to Mac.

‘Your new assignment.’

Mac reached out and took it, unfurling it with more trepidation than he should have.

(He really didn’t want to leave Lafayette Town. He really liked it here, and while Jack would get the same assignment as Mac, the blonde was sure, he wasn’t sure that Jack would _go_ ; instead, he might just retire, to stay here with Diane and Riley. Mac also knew that his best friend would be torn, if Mac were assigned somewhere else – Bozer was completely convinced, for some reason, that Riley was his future wife, after all.)

(And he would _really, really_ miss Beth and all their projects and weird conversations and her irrational love for pie and the way she smiled at him when he came up with something she thought was brilliant. He’d even miss the way she narrowed her eyes at him and jabbed a finger in his sternum.)

(It was probably a sign of how far he was gone – or, a voice that sounded like Jack and Bozer said, how much he was _dragging his feet_ , since it should have gotten somewhere by now, considering how far gone he was – that a voice in his head told him to just _quit_ , if he was going to be assigned far away.)

(That voice wasn’t even that quiet.)

He shouldn’t have had any trepidation at all.

His new assignment was to Castle Lafayette, advising Lord and Lady Lafayette (and their daughter) and assisting with their efforts to make life better for their citizens any way they saw fit.

Essentially, doing what he’d been doing for the last couple of months and getting paid for it.

Mac looked up at his dad, an eyebrow quirked.

This reeked of his father’s interference.

The older man just raised an eyebrow back.

‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Angus.’ His expression shifted, into something that was a little softer, gentler. More paternal. ‘You saved the Kingdom, son. We all agreed you deserve a reward.’ Well, Mac thought, at least it hadn’t been a unilateral decision by his father, though the way his dad said ‘reward’ indicated that this conversation was going to veer into territory he’d really prefer it didn’t. ‘I’m glad it has a future this time.’

There was no need to clarify what he meant by _it._

(Mac was aware that his love life was kind of depressing and fairly tragic. He’d lived it, after all.)

He looked incredulously at his dad.

‘Thanks.’

He put a lot of sarcasm into that one word. James MacGyver shrugged.

‘It’s the truth. You’re clearly no longer grieving.’

_As you can see, my dad lacks emotional tact._

_I probably do too, to be honest, but at least I try the best I can._

_Sometimes, I really don’t think Dad tries at all._

His dad probably was right.

He wasn’t grieving anymore. He’d always remember and care and the scars would always be there, but he wasn’t _grieving._ He was ready to move on, had been for quite a while now.

And the not-having-a-future part was probably true, at least in terms of recent history.

Nasha was a foreign Princess already betrothed to someone else. Enough said.

Zoe was an ice-witch from a far-flung, isolated village at the northern tip of Phoenix. She’d sensed a massive, massive storm, the largest and surely most deadly in history, forming and moving towards her village, courtesy of Murdoc, and in sheer desperation, had used a lot of effort and energy to create a magic-mirror allowing her to converse with the King in an urgent audience.

That had led to Mac being called upon to talk to her, to guide and advise her as best as he could, as she – the last hope for her village and several near it in the storm’s path – built defences and even, in a display of raw power and sheer strength of will, redirected sections of the storm.

For three and a half intense days, she’d worked tirelessly, and he’d talked to her, kept her company and offered as much comfort and support as he could.

She’d succeeded.

When the storm had passed, her village and all the others were still standing, every last one of their inhabitants having somehow survived.

Except one.

That miracle had come at the cost of Zoe’s life, and she had never gotten to pay that visit to the capital (that visit to _him_ ) that they’d talked about and half-planned-out in quieter moments, calms before the storm or eyes within it.

Still, truth or not, Mac crossed his arms, signalling to his dad that this part of the conversation was over.

James MacGyver nodded in acceptance at that, even though something a little hurt, followed by guilt and regret, flickered across his eyes.

(That, in itself, was progress, too.)

Then, he looked his son straight in the eye, a smile growing on his face, soft and _real_ and affectionate.

It was the sort of smile that, according to the very misty edges of Mac’s memory, had once been not exactly common, but not unusual, when his mother was alive. It’d become rarer and rarer after her death, and he hadn’t seen it since his dad had left, all those years ago.

‘She would-‘ He paused, swallowed, grief and sadness and hurt and pride and happiness all mixing together in his voice. ‘She _is_ very proud of you.’

Mac smiled too, soft and affectionate. Then, he opened his front door, and gestured inside.

‘Come in for breakfast? Boze and I have plenty of food.’

His dad’s smile widened just a little, and he nodded in thanks, stepping inside.

* * *

That night, at sunset, Mac was standing on the castle library’s balcony, having dropped off some books he’d borrowed after dinner, staring out over the town, fiddling with his Engineer’s knife.

He heard familiar footsteps behind him, and couldn’t suppress a resultant little smile, turning around to greet Beth as she joined him on the balcony.

She smiled back at him, and rested her forearms on the balcony for a minute, watching the sun set over the town, before turning to him, her smile growing wry.

‘I got a visit from your dad today.’ He groaned internally, and opened his mouth to apologize, profusely, because his dad was his dad and had issues with boundaries and was arrogantly presumptuous, when Beth continued, cutting him off. Her expression wasn’t wry anymore, but her cheeks were a little flushed. ‘His exact words were _Angus’ heart has been broken enough times, so if you add to that, Lady or not…’_

He groaned out-loud.

‘I’m so, so sorry, Beth…’

She lifted a shoulder.

‘It’s fine, Mac.’ She paused, hesitated for a moment. ‘He _is_ your dad.’ She paused again, her expression shifting into something soft and gentle and sympathetic. Comforting, even. ‘And I’m sorry about the heartbreaks.’

‘Thanks. They…’ He paused. ‘Well, they weren’t all a long time ago, but they’re…they’re in the past.’ She gave a little nod of understanding. He stared at her for a moment, and then, his mouth acting almost of its own volition, spoke. ‘You should marry for love, and only for love.’

It was Beth’s turn to blink up at him, a little surprised.

(They’d never spoken about or alluded to _that_ night from when he’d been a dog.)

(And it’d come out strong, vehement. More so than intended.)

(It was, perhaps, a product of that little voice in his brain, the uncertain one, the one that’d said from the beginning that Allie couldn’t possibly _really_ like him or that Frankie thought of him as just a kid and was way out of his league anyway or that there was no way that Nikki Carpenter – powerful sorceress, gorgeous and confident and seductive – could possibly like _him_.)

(The one that kept telling him that perhaps Beth didn’t like him the way he liked her – _really, really_ liked her – but liked him because he was suitable enough for her to marry, being a hero of the Kingdom and a senior member of the Order of Engineers, who respected her intellect and her strength and her calling and was a friend.)

(The rest of him disagreed with that voice – which historically wasn’t always the case – but it was there. A quiet, but persistent annoyance that he couldn’t make shut up.)

Then, she smiled, the blush on her cheeks definitely growing darker, with something very serious in her eyes, like she was trying to tell him something, make him understand something.

 ‘I…I don’t think that that’s highly improbable anymore.’ Her blush darkened further. ‘In fact, I think it’s quite…probable.’

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Her cheeks were still very pink, and he was pretty sure his ears were burning under his hair.

_Yeah, this is probably one of those moments from the romance novels that Bozer likes to read._

_And that I’ve borrowed a couple of times, but that’s not the point._

It didn’t feel like a lightning strike or a raging fire like the novels had described, though.

It was that warm, comfortable, steady feeling that reminded Mac of a fireplace crackling in the hearth or a campfire.

It was a pleasant feeling. A _very_ pleasant feeling.

He was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were standing to one another.

The moment was broken by the sound of a small explosion, coming from her father’s workshop.

Immediately, they both turned to stare down at it, exchanging a concerned glance as some of the castle staff ran towards it, alerted by the noise too.

A few seconds later, Beth’s dad stuck his head out of one of the windows, his face covered in soot, and his shirt sopping wet, but smiling sheepishly.

‘I’m alright! The fire’s out!’

Beth just shook her head with fond exasperation, giggling, and Mac laughed, leaning over to her.

‘One of my Engineering trainers used to say if you don’t blow something up at least once a month, you’re not doing it right.’

That got another fondly exasperated head-shake.

* * *

Midsummer was officially Jack’s favourite holiday.

And Lafayette Town’s Midsummer was really awesome.

The weather was pleasant, warm and sunny without being oppressively so, the smell of many kinds of delicious grub hung in the air, courtesy of the taverns and restaurants and food stalls that’d been set up, and the largest parks were all full of the aforementioned food stalls and craftspeople hawking their wares and carnival games.

He and Mac walked through a section of carnival games, and one of them in particular caught Jack’s eye.

It was a game where one tossed darts at targets, marked with rings with different numbers of points assigned to them, with the bullseye being worth ten. The goal was, of course, to score as many points as possible with the five darts you received.

He grinned in a way that was nearly a smirk, and nudged the younger man, pointing at the game.

‘Hey, rematch?’

Mac smirked back at him.

‘If you’re prepared to lose. Again.’

Jack crossed his arms and shot him a _look._

‘As I recall, brother, _I_ won last time.’

Mac just raised an eyebrow at him, clearly saying that he was recalling wrong.

‘Best of three?’

‘You’re on, brother!’

They each handed some coins to the man running the game, and got their darts in return. Both picked up a dart, tossed it in their hands a little, feeling the weight, before aiming.

Jack had better aim, but Mac was better at dealing with the rigged, unevenly-weighted darts.

(It was a carnival game. They were all rigged.)

Thus, it made this an even contest.

And one that both men were determined to win.

_I have never, ever missed an opportunity to go one up on Jack._

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, it had ended in a dead tie.

Mac muttered under his breath, calculating the probability of this event, while Jack pointed at him firmly.

‘Rematch next year?’

Mac stopped doing math and grinned back.

‘You’re on.’

The stallholder coughed to get their attention, holding out a leather bag to them. The bag held prizes, and anyone who got over a certain score could reach in and pull one out.

Mac and Jack had each earned three.

With a shrug, they both reached in, and moments later, were the proud owners of a carved wooden horse, two cheap bracelets made of braided leather and brass disks, a wooden yo-yo and two small leather balls.

Jack studied the wooden horse.

‘What’re we gonna do with these, brother?’

Neither of them really had any use for the trinkets.

(Well, Mac could think of many uses for them, but it wasn’t as if that was unusual at all.)

Mac smiled.

‘I have an idea.’

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mac and Jack arrived at the large, flat grassy area that had been set aside for children to play in.

It was somewhat chaotic, with kids ranging from barely older than toddlers to young teens running around, playing ball games, going on some kind of treasure hunt, and sitting under trees on the sides, eating pastries and treats.

Under one of those trees, Jack could make out Beth, dressed in a pretty, sky-blue dress, with her hair down and a crown of yellow roses on her head. She also had a large basket on her hip, half-covered with a towel, and was handing out what appeared to be the aforementioned pastries and treats to a gaggle of kids.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at his younger companion, who was definitely staring and grinning in a way that was as besotted as Jack had ever seen him.

Jack shook his head, a soft, glad smile on his face.

‘Does funny things to a man’s heart, son.’

Mac just nodded, before shaking himself out of his stupor and walking towards the Lady.

A leather ball almost hit him in the head, and he caught it reflexively, before glancing in the direction it came from. Mac grinned and tossed it back at the crowd of kids, which included Nessa, the blonde daughter of the owners of Beth’s favourite tavern and at least half a dozen kids from the orphanage near the castle.

He got a chorus of thanks in return, and an invitation to come play with them.

(Interestingly, the blonde tavern-keepers’ daughter and Nessa elbowed their friends, whispering – loudly – that _Mac would be busy, ‘cause can’t you see he’s gonna go talk to Lady Beth? And my mama says they’re gonna get married, so_ …)

(Jack couldn’t help but grin at that.)

When they got over to Beth, she was crouching on the ground giving a cookie to a little boy who couldn’t have been older than three, clutching his big sister’s hand and looking at the Lady with wide eyes.

His sister nudged him as he took the cookie, and he grinned at Beth.

‘Thank you!’

The slightly older girl, who was probably about seven, got a chocolate cupcake, and after another thank you, the two siblings scampered off to enjoy their treats.

Then, Beth stood and turned to face Mac and Jack. Mac held out the two leather bracelets and the yo-yo to her, and following his lead, Jack pulled the wooden horse and the leather balls out of his pockets.

‘We won these in the dart-throwing game. I thought they might make good thank-you gifts for your helpers.’

Some of the older children, teens of thirteen or fourteen, were helping to watch the younger children, helping to set up games and handle any disagreements.

Beth smiled.

‘Thank you!’ She hadn’t organized gifts for the helpers, as none of them had officially been designated that. Some of the older kids, particularly those with younger siblings or from the orphanages, had just taken it upon themselves. She took the trinkets and put them in her basket, then gestured over at the ball game that Nessa was playing. ‘Now, I believe you have an invitation, Mac?’

* * *

Five minutes later, Beth was giggling a tiny bit sheepishly and Jack was clapping and grinning as no fewer than four kids under eight tackled Mac to the ground and seized the ball.

One of the boys took it and ran, scoring a goal, as Mac sat up, laughing and looking much younger than Jack had seen him in years.

He glanced at the young woman beside him. She was smiling much like Mac had been earlier, with that same softness in her eyes.

Jack hid a smile behind a half-cookie that a very sweet little girl had given him.

It did funny things to a woman’s heart too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate Michael for interrupting! (If he knew what he’d interrupted, he’d feel terrible!)
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Bro, I love you, but your romance game is…kinda, sorta, not-really existent.’


	15. Chapter 15

Riley smiled at her mother as the two of them browsed the craft stalls, and Diane smiled back.

They moved on from the stall selling scented soaps, to one selling silk scarves.

The craftswoman running the stall smiled at mother and daughter, before returning to talking to a merchant’s daughter, who was trying to select a scarf to match her dress.

Diane’s eye was caught by a scarf in jewel-green, with a small amount of intricate embroidery in gold thread along the border, just enough to catch the eye, but not enough to detract from the beauty of the simple green silk.

She reached out and touched it, judging the quality of the silk, before checking the price tag on it. Diane considered for a moment, before letting go of the scarf.

‘You should buy it, Mom.’

Riley’s mother was frugal, though she also managed to be one of the most elegant women Riley had ever known despite it.

Frugality had been a necessity for many years when Riley was young. Since they’d moved to Lafayette and her mother had entered Lady Lafayette’s employment, their situation had improved, and had even more since Riley had started working full-time at the tavern, a decade ago now.

Still, old habits died hard.

Riley knew what her mother was doing with all of her savings: setting them aside for a hope chest for her, should she ever marry (there’d never been money when she was young for a hope chest, and Riley had never been the type of girl who dreamed of marrying anyway), as well as a fund to ensure that Riley never, ever found herself in the situation that Diane had been in, never had to struggle to provide for herself and her child.

Diane considered for another moment, then caught the craftswoman’s eye and picked up the scarf. The woman smiled at her, and took it down and placed it in a paper bag.

Riley reached out and put the money in the woman’s hand before Diane could take the sum out of her money pouch.

Diane shook her head, affectionate and exasperated, when Riley looked determinedly at her, insisting that she didn’t argue.

She didn’t (changing Riley’s mind when it was made up was very, very difficult), and reached out to put an arm around her instead, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

‘Thank you, baby girl.’

Riley smiled.

‘You deserve it, Mom.’

(She really did. Riley didn’t have much disposable income, but buying her mother something nice was always a good use of it.)

* * *

Riley raised an eyebrow at the _thing_ on the plate that Bozer was holding out to her. He’d run around several food stalls, sweet-talking various stallholders into selling him several of just one item, or making minor modifications.

The end result was one of these _things_ that was now in front of her.

It consisted of a bread roll that’d been cut in half, into a top section and a bottom section. Sandwiched between the roll halves was two meatballs that’d been combined and flattened prior to cooking, a slice of cheese, some lettuce leaves and tomato and pickle slices.

On her left, also sitting at one of the rough-hewn tables near the food stalls, her mother was also eying the _thing_ Bozer had given her, as Jack, his mouth already full with some of his half-eaten _thing_ enthusiastically regaled her with how delicious it was. On Jack’s other side, Mac was eagerly taking a bite of his _thing_ (in a far more dignified and polite way than Jack), which he was holding upside-down for reasons unknown.

Bozer grinned at her, nudging the _thing_ closer to her.

‘Seriously, Riley, I promise it’s gonna be one of the best things you’re ever gonna taste! It’s a burger, a Wilt Bozer original!’ He paused. ‘Well, not _exactly,_ since I didn’t make it to my exact specs, but it’s the closest that you’re gonna get today. You know, since I had to do as my man Mac’s always saying and improvise.’

Bozer _was_ an excellent cook.

He had never let her down when it came to food.

So, Riley reached out, picked up the slightly-unwieldy ‘burger’ and took a bite.

Bozer was right.

It _was_ one the best things she’d ever tasted.

Right then and there, Riley decided that this was her new favourite food. She swallowed her mouthful, and looked up at Bozer.

‘This is really good.’

He actually preened and looked kind of smug at that, which made Riley shake her head exasperatedly (and fondly), before shrugging.

He’d earned it this time.

* * *

In the late afternoon, after all the craftsmen’s stalls had closed for the day, and the games and food stalls closed for a break before dinner and the evening’s festivities, Mac and Beth stood in a storage room off her father’s workshop, in front of a large blackboard detailing the plan for the fireworks display that night.

A handsome blonde man in an Engineer’s coat picked up the last bundle of the fireworks that’d been stored in the room, and then gestured with his head to the blackboard.

‘Roof of the northwest corner, right?’

Mac quickly glanced at that section of the plan, and nodded at his fellow Engineer.

(Alex Lucas was stationed in the eastern part of Lafayette, but had happened to be in Lafayette Town for Midsummer and seemed very, very happy about that fact, though Mac wasn’t quite sure _why_.)

(Jack had been absolutely delighted and simultaneously terrified to meet him – Alex was a couple of inches taller and broader than Mac, but they had enough resemblance between them, both physical and not, to pass easily for brothers.)

Beth called out to Alex before he left the room.

‘Alex, when you’re done with the fireworks, could you please get Jill to take the rest of the evening off? She should be down in the plaza, organizing the musicians…’

The Engineer grinned in a way that was nearly a smirk, though there was something soft in his eyes, and nodded.

‘My pleasure, m’lady.’

And with that, he ran off.

Mac turned and raised an eyebrow at Beth, who just lifted a shoulder, a bit sheepishly.

‘Jill likes him. I’m pretty sure he likes her too.’

_That_ explained why he was so happy to be in Lafayette Town for Midsummer.

He smiled as they turned back to the fireworks plan.

‘It’s a great Midsummer.’

She smiled too, glancing over at him.

‘The best in a very long time. Perhaps the best so far.’

There was something a little shy in her smile, and her cheeks were a touch pink again.

Her crown of roses was also slightly askew, and a lock of her hair, worn loose save for two thin braids at the front that’d been pulled back behind her head to keep her hair off her face, had escaped.

Without quite thinking about it, Mac reached out to straighten her flower crown, and to tuck that lock of rogue hair back behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her cheek, and seemingly unconsciously, she leaned into the touch.

This was another one of those moments, just like the one on the library balcony three days ago that’d gotten interrupted, with _something_ in the air and the warmth and comfort of a steady-burning fireplace.

This time, Mac was determined it was not going to get interrupted. Since he couldn’t possibly prevent interruptions from potentially occurring, his only option was to just move the moment along before an interruption could occur.

‘Can I kiss you?’

It seemed polite to ask.

Beth’s cheeks grew pinker, and she smiled, sweet and soft, and gave a little nod.

‘Yes, please!’

That made him smile, and he tucked two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up, then leaned down and did as the Lady requested.

* * *

When they broke apart, she looked a bit like something had shifted under her feet and clicked into place, which was exactly how he felt too.

Wanting to keep that closeness for a moment, Mac didn’t go far, and rested his forehead against hers as they caught their breath.

Then, he raised his head a little and spoke.

‘I should go ask your parents for their blessing.’ He paused and amended the statement. ‘If you want me to, of course.’

In the past, you needed a woman’s parents’ permission to court her.

Nowadays, it was considered polite (for ordinary people) to ask for their blessing after asking a woman for a courtship, but not a necessity. There were many courting couples who never bothered.

Among nobility and the wealthy, of course things were a little different, and asking for her parents’ blessing was considered essential.

Beth just smiled up at him, cupping his face in her hands and looking him in the eyes very seriously, like she wanted him to understand something and be sure of it.

‘Of course I want you to court me.’ Her smile widened and grew wry. ‘And trust me, you already have their blessing.’

Her dad adored Mac, and if not for her mother, might be already planning the wedding.

(In fact, she couldn’t say that he wasn’t working on something or the other for it, since he refused to tell her or her mom or Mac exactly _what_ had blown up in his workshop three days ago.)

* * *

That evening, after the fireworks display, as musicians played in one of the several areas that had been cleared for dancing, Bozer stood to one side and sipped a large mug of beer.

Mac and Beth were dancing, the Lady laughing at something that Mac had whispered in her ear. Neither of them were actually very good at dancing (his bro was agile and coordinated, but lacked _rhythm_ , and Bozer supposed Beth was too busy learning to be a Healer and how to govern and reading books in the library to devote lots of time to ‘proper’ Lady stuff), but neither seemed to care, either. They looked very happy, and Bozer was pretty sure they were _finally_ official, since they were holding hands in public and dancing exclusively with each other and all.

He could also hear Jack’s voice carrying over the music, the Knight regaling Diane with one of his many stories about saving Mac’s life, doubtlessly exaggerated. Her musical laugh sounded out from time to time too.

(Bozer knew that there was a lot of history and baggage there, but Jack and Diane seemed to have something growing between them too.)

(The whole turned-into-a-dog curse was turning into a blessing in disguise.)

(The Cage Witch was clearly a _really_ good matchmaker.)

He grinned his most charming grin at Riley, who walked over to where he was standing after dancing an energetic group dance with a couple of her co-workers, holding a mug in her own hands.

‘Hey, my Midsummer queen, wanna dance?’ He waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘I got the moves!’

Riley took a sip of her drink (which was water, because she was feeling really hot and thirsty after the energetic dancing), sighing in frustration internally.

‘You need to cool down, Bozer.’

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the message. Bozer wasn’t stupid, so it really did seem like his brain shut down around her half the time.

He smirked.

‘Well, why don’t we go take a dip in the lake-‘

With a noise of frustration out-loud, Riley tipped the water in her mug over him, and stalked off to go dance with her friends again.

Bozer spluttered, wiping his eyes, and wondered how in the world he’d gone wrong.

After all, weren’t he and Riley just _meant_ to be?

* * *

The morning after Midsummer, at about 10:30, Bozer staggered out of bed, with a bit of a headache, a slightly-churning stomach and a stronger-than-usual dislike of the sun streaming in under the curtains.

He’d overindulged a little last night.

He went into the small bathroom attached to his bedroom, and dealt with his morning ablutions, feeling slightly better when he staggered into the main room of his and Mac’s cottage.

His best friend was sitting at their kitchen table, fully dressed, looking less energetic and fresh than usual, doing something with his Engineer’s knife and a coil of wire.

There was also a greasy breakfast of baked beans, bacon, fried eggs and buttered toast, all still steaming hot, clearly freshly made, as well as a very large mug of water.

(Mac always seemed to know when he’d wake up in the morning after a night of drinking a mug or two or three too many.)

(He claimed it was pattern analysis based on past data and how bad he looked the night before.)

(Bozer, on the other hand, would not be surprised if his best friend had a bit of magic in him.)

‘Morning, bro. Thanks for the breakfast.’

Mac was quite capable of cooking, as in preparing food, but whether he could actually do it without causing a fire and/or burning the food hinged on him not getting distracted by thoughts of science.

(Apparently, there was too much science in cooking. It gave him Thoughts and Ideas.)

Therefore, if Mac cooked you something, it was an act of great effort, energy and love.

(Bozer rarely saw his best friend more tired than he was after forcing himself to concentrate on cooking a good dinner, and nothing else.)

‘Morning, Boze.’ Mac smiled wryly as Bozer sculled the water. ‘And you’re welcome.’

They were silent for a while, as Bozer ate his breakfast and Mac kept shaping pieces of wire into various shapes, considering, sliding some of them onto pieces of paper, flipping through the papers and sliding the bits of wire off again, then shaking his head and starting again.

Beth’s many pieces of paper, on which she wrote assorted notes, despite her best efforts and judicious use of colour-coded paperweights and a consistent numbering system, often got mixed up or put in the wrong order, because they were blown away by some draught or he got caught up in an idea and went rummaging for something.

It was too expensive and inefficient to have them properly bound, but if he could work out a way to temporarily and easily bind or attach them, the problem would be solved.

And he really liked fixing problems.

Especially, a not-really-quiet-at-all-anymore voice in his head pointed out, for her.

He finally came up with a good, robust design, and held up his new invention and nodded in satisfaction.

He got to work making more of these ‘paperclips’ (he’d decided to go with a literal, descriptive name – it was the Engineer in him) for Beth.

It might be a weird courting gift, but he was sure she’d like them.

(They were, after all, thoughtful and considerate, demonstrating that he really did know her and what she needed and wanted – as his grandfather said a romantic gift should be.)

(They were also pretty interesting from an engineering perspective, even if he said so himself, and, as his mind buzzed, had far more potential uses than he’d initially thought…)

Mac had made four paperclips by the time Bozer finished his breakfast.

At that point, he looked up at his best friend, caught his eye and spoke. It was a little awkward, but also very earnest, as Mac so often was.

‘Boze…you know, I don’t think your, um, _attentions_ to Riley are very well-received. I think you might be making her uncomfortable, actually…’ He paused. ‘I think you should seriously tone it down.’

Bozer looked at his best friend like he’d grown a second head.

‘Bro, I love you, but your romance game is…kinda, sorta, not-really existent.’ That was true. Mac had _no_ game. He put in effort and did romantic things (some of which were a little weird, just like he was), but he had zero _game_. Bozer blamed the fact that Mac had been raised by his old-fashioned grandpa, who had a whole list of rules for courting that his grandson followed, as much as he ever followed rules anyway. Bozer shrugged. ‘Anyway, me and Riley? We’re inevitable! You know, since The Cage Witch could see the future and was playing matchmaker and all.’

Still, even as he spoke, a worm of doubt niggled Bozer. The same one that’d appeared after she’d tipped her drink on him the night before.

If it was inevitable, did he really need to work on bringing his A-game for Riley? Couldn’t he just be himself? Given how his brain sometimes still shut down around her, it would make life a lot easier…

And Mac had no game whatsoever, but he’d also had more courtships than Bozer, even if most of them had ended in a way that was really tragic and/or made Bozer really angry at the lady for hurting his best friend.

And despite the dearth of game, Mac was now in a happy and stable courtship with a really brilliant, beautiful, kind, sweet and unexpectedly fierce Lady. Sure, there’d been that magical interference, but to be honest, he’d thought that they were inevitable before they’d even _met_ The Witch of Thorns.

Was game necessary? Was it even good?

(A voice in his head – a pervasive one that refused to shut up – said, of course it was necessary, and of course it was good. He wasn’t a badass like Jack or a genius like Mac, he was just Wilt Bozer, Mac’s childhood best friend who was a little weird and a really good cook.)

(He _needed_ game.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you not to be annoyed at Michael! See, he didn’t cause much of a delay…
> 
> I hope you liked the insight into Bozer’s head; I really do wish he had seriously answered Riley’s question when she asked him why he was pretending to be a player. This is my interpretation of what would be his answer. 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘The explosion was a diversion.’


	16. Chapter 16

A week and a half after Midsummer, Beth was sitting at Nicole, Nate and Nessa’s kitchen table, the four of them enjoying some muffins as Nessa and Nate excitedly told stories from school.

Then, suddenly, there was a loud sound that sounded an awful lot like an explosion.

The shouts started nearly immediately. It sounded like the restaurant down the street had caught fire.

Beth hurried over to the back window that looked out on the family’s tiny backyard, fairly certain that she’d get the best view of the restaurant from there. She’d just pulled back the curtains when the door unlatched, the lock having been picked, and Nicole screamed.

She whirled around, to see a wild-haired man with fury and darkness in his eyes, a cruel smirk on his face and a wicked-looking dagger in his right hand enter the room.

Nathan. Nate and Nessa’s father, and the man responsible for the scar on Nicole’s face, as well as countless other, less visible scars. The reason why Nate insisted on going by Nate, instead of Nathan Jr., and a man who’d been banished by her father and tossed out of the town for abusing his wife.

And now, he was back.

Obviously, the explosion at the restaurant was a diversion, and he’d likely snuck back in during the huge influx of people at Midsummer, probably spent the last week and a half preparing.

The single reported sighting of him by a couple members of the public clearly wasn’t a false alarm, or paranoia.

Nathan smirked wider.

‘It’s been a long time, wife.’

Nicole lunged for the butter knife on the table, while Beth, her Healer’s apron on a hook by the door and far out of reach, grabbed the knife-sharpening stone and a plate from the kitchen bench under the back window.

Nicole, knife in hand, stepped in front of her children with great determination, while Beth shouted as loud as she could, tossed the sharpening stone out of the back window, breaking the glass, and threw the plate at Nathan.

* * *

Mac and Jack were sitting in a little bakery not far from Nicole, Nate and Nessa’s home while Beth paid them a visit, eating some snacks.

Mac was in the middle of explaining to Jack why tiger-bears were absolutely not real when there was a loud explosion.

Instantly, Mac and Jack grew serious, hands going to their weapons (Jack had been given special permission by Michael to carry his broadsword on the way to and from, and during, this visit, due to the reported sighting of Nathan), as they ran outside to find a nearby restaurant on fire.

They ran towards it, and arrived as several coughing people emerged, some carried or aided by others.

Mac and Jack exchanged a glance, and then Mac shrugged off his Engineer’s jacket, holding it over his head instead, and ran into the burning building, while Jack started shouting orders, organizing the neighbours who’d swarmed to help.

‘Alright, we need to get a bucket brigade going!’

* * *

Ten minutes later, the fire was under control thanks to a very determined bucket brigade of concerned citizens, everyone was out of the building, alive, and an off-duty Healer’s assistant who lived nearby was checking over the injured. A teenage boy had run off at top speed to fetch Healers from the Houses.

Mac was just putting his coat on again and in the middle of adjusting the trajectory of the bucket brigade’s aim to be more effective when a member of the Town Guard ran up to him and Jack.

‘Nicole’s neighbour is reporting screaming, shouting and smashing glass and pottery from her house.’

Mac and Jack exchanged a glance, and took off at a run, the Town Guard following behind them.

‘Damn it!’

‘The explosion was a diversion.’

* * *

‘…he’s not gonna kill her, son. She’s too valuable alive, and he’s gotta know he won’t get out of here alive if he does.’

Jack spoke quietly to Mac as the two of them scouted out the situation.

There were a dozen members of the Town Guard and three Knights surrounding the cottage, now. But they couldn’t get close.

In the one front window, they could see Beth from side-on. She was tied to a chair, her hands behind her back, and was looking straight ahead, her mouth moving, though they couldn’t hear the words. She looked very, very calm, though, and reassuring, like the Healer she was, and seemed to be comforting Nate, Nessa and Nicole.

At least, hopefully she was, because they couldn’t see any of them.

There was a line of blood down Beth’s throat, from where Nathan had sliced through a few layers of skin, just enough to make her bleed, when the Town Guard had gotten close enough to make him twitchy.

Mac swallowed.

‘Not if he doesn’t plan on getting out of here alive.’

The man was motivated by revenge. If that was all he had…then he probably wouldn’t care if he died achieving it.

Mac gave himself a little shake, forcing himself to put those very dark and very painful thoughts aside, reigning in his anger and his fear, and made himself focus and _think._

After about twenty seconds, his _I-have-an-idea_ face appeared. A second later, Mac took off at a sprint.

Jack smiled and nodded in somewhat-grim satisfaction.

‘And we are go, boys.’ The Guards and Knights looked very confused, all except for one, Sir Sidney Lanier, who was an old buddy of Mac and Jack’s, from the squad of elite Knights that Jack had led. Brothers. Mac had gone on a mission with them once, the kind that bonded you together for life, and thus, he was considered one of them. Jack waved a hand. ‘Eh, he does this all the time. It’s a good thing, trust me. You get used to him.’ He paused. ‘Kinda.’

* * *

A few minutes later, Mac returned, with a bunch of stuff he’d taken from people’s houses and the apothecary down the street.

He mixed several vials together, then filled a syringe with the contents, before making some modifications to the syringe, so that it looked a fair bit like one of those darts that he and Jack had been throwing at Midsummer.

When he was done, he looked up at Jack.

‘I need you to keep him busy and talking.’

Jack nodded seriously, then grinned, trying to bring some lightness into this very dark situation.

‘Well, you know I’m _excellent_ at talking.’

Mac managed something that was nearly a smile, then ran off again, getting four houses down the block before he leapt a fence to get into the backyard.

Jack, meanwhile, shouted out.

‘Nathan! I’m Sir Jack Dalton, Knight of Phoenix, specially appointed by Lord Michael and Lady Caitlyn to protect their daughter!’ The last was stretching the truth a bit. Jack was only still in Lafayette and hadn’t been recalled to the capital because he’d given notice that he was retiring at the end of the year, when he hit thirty years in service as a Knight apprentice or Knight. Matty had pulled some strings so he could finish off the year in Lafayette Town, and after that, he’d take up training Knight apprentices. ‘I’m leaving my sword all the way here on the other side of the road, and I’d like to come closer so we can talk properly and not have to shout!’

Through the window, they saw Nicole, with her right arm held at an awkward angle and her left eye already swelling up, as she was flung across the room violently, landing so hard on the floor they heard the thud. Nathan came into view next, stalking over to Beth and holding his knife to her throat again. To her credit, she shot him a vehement glare as best as she could.

‘I’ll talk, but you better be unarmed!’

Jack nodded, and in full view of the man, dropped his weapons belt on the side of the road, leaving behind his broadsword and two knives.

Then, with his hands up, he walked slowly over to the door.

Nathan walked out of view of the Guard and Knights over to his side of the door too, and Jack leaned against it and spoke calmly.

‘You know Lord Michael and Lady Caitlyn adore their daughter, and they care ‘bout Nicole and the kids too. They want them safe, and they’ll give you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life to ensure that-‘

‘Don’t you dare, boy, or I will gut your bitch of a mother and that stuck-up little bitch who thought she could interfere in a man’s home like stuck pigs! I was gonna just cut her throat, since she’s a Lady and all, but you grab that knife, boy, and I’ll have to teach you a lesson…’

Jack swallowed, anger rising and burning in him like a volcano, but he forced it down, held it in, controlled it. He had to, at least for now.

‘Nathan, you gotta know you won’t get out of here alive if you hurt ‘em. If you don’t, you could come out of here the richest man in the province, a powerful man, but you gotta swear you won’t hurt ‘em…’

* * *

Meanwhile, Mac inched along the back wall of the house, towards the back window, where, he could see, one of the glass windowpanes had already been broken, making his job easier and the likelihood of success higher.

He crouched down below the window frame when he got there, and snuck a quick, quick glance through the very bottom.

Nicole was still on the ground, but she was moving her fingers a little and Beth was keeping an eye on her. The kids were sitting along the kitchen cabinets along the back wall; he could see their feet and most of their legs and the end of a rope across Nate’s lap. Their wrists were presumably tied in front of them, and Nessa appeared to have curled herself into her brother, face buried in his chest. He could hear her sobs from outside.

There was a butter knife on the ground, not too far from Nate, which was presumably the weapon he’d tried to grab, triggering that disturbing outburst from his father.

Nathan seemed very well-distracted by Jack, and thankfully, wasn’t wearing any kind of amour; only a filthy, slightly ragged shirt and trousers.

Slowly, quietly and carefully, Mac inched upright, raising the dart in his hands, took a deep breath, aimed and threw.

He hit his target, the side of Nathan’s neck, in the carotid artery, and his jury-rigged self-injecting syringe did as it was supposed to do. The large dose of fast-acting sedative took effect nearly immediately, and with a terrible, angry, ferocious cry as he realized what had happened, Nathan took two steps towards Nicole, before he staggered and lost hold of his dagger.

Quick as a flash, Nate darted out, his hands free, and grabbed the weapon, before sitting on his nearly-unconscious father’s chest, holding the dagger to his throat, eyes full of protective anger. Nathan sneered at his son, before he went under completely.

(Nessa must have undone the bindings around his wrists while she was sobbing into his chest – or pretending to sob into his chest.)

That brought a sad little smile to Mac’s face.

The kids were clever, and cool under pressure, brave in the face of danger. 

He just wished they hadn’t had to show it in this way.

‘Jack, we’re good!’

Mac reached through the broken windowpane, and unlatched the window and climbed inside as the door was broken in, and Jack and the Knights and Guards rushed in.

Jack crouched down next to Nate, and held out a hand.

‘Can I take that, son?’

The boy looked down at his unconscious father and the dagger he was holding to his throat. His hands started to shake a little, and he handed the dagger to Jack, before flinging his arms around his newly-freed sister. As gently as he could, Jack guided the two kids up and to Sir Sidney. He was a big, broad, scary-looking man, who was a gentle giant with kids. The big man crouched down to be closer to their level, and guided them outside, talking about getting them some cookies from his sister’s bakery.

Meanwhile, Mac undid the ropes around Beth’s wrists, rubbing her hands to help her circulation along for a moment. She looked into his eyes for a beat, eyes full of relief, and gave a little nod, before pulling her hands away. Her calm, caring Healer’s look settled onto her face, and she knelt by Nicole, rolling her onto her side and checking her breathing. The woman groaned and winced when she was rolled over.

‘Your kids are both safe and unhurt, and are probably talking about cookies as we speak. We’ll have you to the Houses soon, Nicole. Just try and stay still, okay?’ She gestured at Mac with her head. ‘Mac, I need you to help her stay steady and still on her side, please.’

He nodded, and immediately replaced Beth holding Nicole’s head and neck steady.

‘You’ve got a great pair of kids, Nicole. They were strong, brave and very smart…’

Beth, still looking just as much a Healer, crawled over to where Nathan lay, his hands already cuffed and with Jack’s broadsword in his face. Along with the Knight, several Guards watched him closely too, hands on their weapons.

She reached out and found his pulse, which was a little slow, but strong, then gently removed the syringe-dart.

‘Mac, how much did you give him?’

‘A whole syringe-full. I didn’t want to take any chances.’

Beth nodded, and did some calculations in her head, before nodding again and looking up at the Guards.

‘He’ll be awake in about ten hours. Someone will have to check on him every hour to make sure he’s still breathing.’

She said that very, very firmly, with authority, looking them all in the eye, making it clear that they were to do as she said and ensure Nathan was alive for his trial, or else.

The most senior of the Guards nodded.

‘Yes, my lady. We will.’

* * *

After Beth had briefed the Healers and Healer’s assistants who’d come to take the kids and Nicole to the Houses and they’d shifted her onto a stretcher, and Jack had dragged Nathan out of the house with extreme prejudice, Mac finally reached out and pulled Beth into his arms, held her tight and tucked his chin over her shoulder.

She hugged him back just as tightly, resting her cheek against his chest, and then raised her head and pulled away enough to look up at him. One of her hands started tracing figures-of-eight on his shoulder and upper arm, seemingly unconsciously. It was oddly reassuring and comforting.

‘I’m safe, Mac, and I’m going to be alright…’

She sounded a little shaken, but also sounded like she was very certain. Fiercely determined that that would be the case. Half reassuring him, and half reassuring herself.

He just smiled, a tiny, slightly shaky smile, but very fond, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason why Nicole, Nate and Nessa have been so important in this story so far. This is half of it, but there’s more later…and that’s all I’m giving you!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Why? Why did you _leave_ , Jack?’


	17. Chapter 17

Several hours later, Mac and Jack left Lafayette Town’s prison, and headed for the Houses of Healing.

Mac, Jack, six Guards and two Knights had escorted Nathan to prison, while the other six Guards and Sir Sidney had escorted Nate, Nessa, Nicole, Beth and the Healers and their assistants to the Houses. That second escort had been joined by a whole group of the town’s teenagers, and Nate’s friends.

Jack had tossed Nathan into his cell with extreme prejudice, his anger palpable, obvious, and no longer held back.

(Mac had gotten the feeling that if Jack had his way, Nathan would _not_ be going to trial. He’d be six feet under instead.)

So, he’d reached out and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder, in comfort, in reassurance and as a reminder.

‘Come on. We need to make sure he’s not going to get out of here, and that he hasn’t left any other nasty surprises.’

Jack had stared at the man, still out cold, for a long, long moment, before he’d nodded and let Mac lead him away.

Mac had inspected Nathan’s cell, plus the exterior of the prison, to make sure that escape was as close to impossible as could be, while Jack had worked with the Knights and Guards to set up a guard schedule.

Alex Lucas (still in town, having taken his vacation time to spend time with a certain Scribe) reported back about an hour later, having determined the cause of the explosion in the restaurant, and then, they’d embarked on a search of Lafayette Town to ensure that there were no nasty surprises.

They’d found nothing, and after Mac and Jack had checked in on the still-unconscious Nathan and the Guards watching him, they’d set off for the Houses.

* * *

Jack was distracted, lost in his thoughts, as they walked.

There was still anger burning in his eyes, in his stance, but underneath all of that, there was guilt and something hurt. Vulnerable. A touch of that thousand yard stare one got when one was looking into unpleasant memories in the past.

When they were about halfway there, and when they were quite close to a certain seamstress’s home, Jack clapped Mac on the shoulder.

‘There’s something I gotta do, brother.’

Mac nodded in understanding, and gave a little smile.

‘Time to start a conversation?’

Jack nodded.

‘Yeah.’ He paused, voice filling with regret. ‘Probably past time.’

He squeezed Mac’s shoulder absent-mindedly and strode off.

* * *

Healer Farnham showed Mac to one of the Houses’ many comfortable, airy and well-lit chambers for patients.

Lying in bed, propped up on a couple of pillows, was Nicole. Her dislocated shoulder had been returned to its proper place, strapped and her arm put in a sling. Salve had been applied to her swollen-shut eye, and her bruised ribs had been wrapped. She’d been checked for and cleared of a head or spinal injury. Burrowed into her less-injured side was Nessa, the little girl pronounced healthy, but in shock, as was Nate, who was perched on a chair by his mother’s head.

Sitting on another chair next to him was Beth, with her throat bandaged.

Nessa raised her head a little and gave a little wave when Mac came in, before turning to her mother, apparently shaken out of her shock for long enough to speak.

‘Mommy, I don’t wanna go home.’

The expression that passed across Nicole’s face was utterly heart-breaking.

‘Nessa, we can’t stay in the Houses forever, and we don’t have anywhere else-‘

‘You don’t have to go home, Nessa.’ Beth interrupted Nicole gently, reaching out a hand, which the little girl took after a moment of hesitation. ‘You can come stay with me and my family in the castle until we’ve helped your mommy find your family a new home.’

It was a sign of how shaken she was, how scared she’d been for herself and her children, how scared she probably still was, that Nicole didn’t even give a token protest, just looked lighter, relieved of a great burden.

‘ _Thank you_.’

* * *

A couple of hours later, the Healers had discharged Nicole into Beth’s care, and the little family, as well as Mac and Beth, were sitting in the suite of rooms in the castle that had been assigned to Nicole, Nate and Nessa, eating a delicious dinner prepared by Mama Colton.

The Cook walked in again with one of her famous buttermilk pies, and proceeded to cut a slice for each of them. She passed a slice to Nicole, and spoke casually (deliberately so) as she did.

‘Eat up, y’all need it.’ She cut an especially-big slice for Nate. ‘My Billy will be watching your backs ‘till he ain’t around to bother you no more.’

Mama said that as if it were a fact, though she also arched an eyebrow slightly at Nicole, as if to tell her not to argue.

At that moment, as if on cue, Billy Colton strode in, and tipped his hat to the room’s occupants. Mama cut him a slice of pie too.

Nicole just sat there, a little dumb-founded.

Mac didn’t blame her, after the day she’d had. Besides, it _was_ a little surreal, for a simple rug-maker to find herself and her children in a very nice suite meant for castle guests, eating the Cook’s pie with a Lady, her suitor, the Cook and a bounty hunter.

* * *

After dinner and dessert, Mac and Bozer sat on either side of Nate and Nessa in front of the fire, roasting marshmallows that Bozer had brought over with him and telling the story of how they’d been invented.

(It was an almost-unbelievable story, and was punctuated by frequent, good-natured complaints of ‘I did not say that, bro!’ and ‘That is not how it happened, Boze.’)

(Nate and Nessa were giggling.)

* * *

Jack jogged up to Diane’s front door, and paused on the front step, hesitating.

Then, gathering his courage, he knocked.

Diane opened the door, to reveal that Riley was sitting at her kitchen table, two cups of tea on the kitchen table.

‘Can…can I come in?’ Diane nodded, and stepped aside to let him in. ‘You heard?’

He didn’t need to specify _what_.

(It was the biggest piece of news spreading through the grapevine.)

(And Riley was at her mom’s house, the two of them drinking a calming tea.)

Both Riley and Diane nodded.

‘Yeah.’

‘Are they okay?’

Jack nodded.

‘They will be. And we got him good.’ He said that with more than a hint of savage satisfaction, a feeling mirrored in the Davis’ women’s eyes. ‘It reminded me.’ He looked Diane in the eye, then Riley, heart very much on his sleeve, open and vulnerable and voice emotional. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for beating him up. I’m sorry I left that night. I’m sorry I refused to see you after.’

Diane had come to the barracks in an attempt to speak to him a week later, when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to come talk to them on his own. He’d refused to speak to her.

There was silence for a moment.

And then, just as Mac’s grandfather had said, the conversation started.

‘Why? Why did you _leave_ , Jack?’

Diane looked at him when she asked, in a way that suggested to him that she had her suspicions, but wanted an answer. An explanation. The one she should have gotten all those years ago, when she’d come to the barracks.

He swallowed.

‘I was scared.’ He paused. ‘I was scared of how you’d react. I beat him up real bad in front of you, and I thought you’d think I wasn’t much better than him. I was scared that my work might put the two of you in danger.’ He’d been part of that elite group of Knights, and they’d had a lot of enemies. He had worried that someone might come after his family. ‘And there was that strain, ‘cause...you know…’

He trailed off and gestured to Riley, looking at Diane.

The two Davis women stared at Jack for a moment that was almost uncomfortably long for him. He felt like he was being weighed, evaluated.

Then, Diane gave a little head-shake.

‘That’s not the real reason, Jack. Not all of it.’

Before Jack could say anything in response, Diane glanced at her daughter, encouragement in her eyes.

Riley was silent for a moment, looked down at her cup of tea, then up at Jack.

‘I was really mad at you.’ That was why she’d never sought him out. Wounded and hurt and thus full of anger, Riley had refused to go with her mother to try and find answers, determined to shut Jack Dalton out of her life and forget about him. Jack just nodded in understanding and acceptance. He’d felt some of that anger in the last few weeks, too. Riley swallowed, looked down, then back up at him. ‘You basically _were_ my dad. Closest thing I ever had. And then you just _left_.’

There was still a touch of that anger in her voice, but the hurt in her voice was stronger.

It was Jack’s turn to stare a little, dumbfounded.

But then again, a not-so-quiet voice in his head pointed out, you kinda knew, didn’t you? Started to think that you were finally getting through to this stubborn, tough kid, that you were starting to really mean something to her…

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked over at Diane, nodding.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He paused. ‘I was scared, but not ‘cause of those reasons. Those were just what I told myself, have been telling myself for years.’ He turned to Riley. ‘But…now I think I realize I could see how much I was starting to mean to you, and it freaked me out a little bit. Didn’t think I was man enough for the job, you know?’ He glanced back over at Diane. ‘And I never thought I was a good enough man for a woman like you, Diane.’

Diane and Riley exchanged a glance, then looked at Jack, both giving little head-shakes, eyes full of emotion, something _open,_ a touch vulnerable in there. They had near-identical little smiles on their faces, too.

Riley arched an eyebrow at him.

‘Jack, you’re an idiot.’

Her voice was affectionate.

Diane got up, and walked over to Jack, so that they were only a foot or so apart.

‘If Riley chose you, you were more than good enough. For both of us.’

And she leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly, near the corner of his mouth. When she pulled away, she didn’t go far, their faces just inches apart.

Jack couldn’t help but grin at that, even give a slightly-disbelieving half-chuckle.

‘Thanks.’

Diane smiled that little smile of hers at him, the one that had always drawn him in.

‘Maybe it’s not too late.’

A smile grew across Jack’s face too, soft and slow.

‘Yeah, maybe.’

Sitting at the kitchen table, Riley smiled too.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Beth woke up suddenly, clammy with sweat, heart pounding.

A nightmare.

She took several deep breaths, reminding herself that it was just a nightmare, that she, Nicole, Nate and Nessa were all safe, and when her heartbeat slowed, she got out of bed, padding over to her bathroom and wiping her face with a damp cloth.

Then, after glancing at her bed, Beth came to a decision and grabbed her robe and put on a pair of slippers, wrapping her arms around her torso in an attempt to comfort herself.

She wasn’t going to fall asleep with any ease again, but she also knew she needed to sleep. Sedation was a last resort, and she really didn’t want to use it unless it became necessary.

Still, warm milk with cinnamon and nutmeg was pleasant-tasting, calming and quite effective.

She opened the door to her chambers, to head to the kitchen to make herself some, and was a little startled to find Mac sitting on the floor outside her door, fiddling with paperclips.

The thousand yard stare in his eyes broke when she opened the door, and he looked apologetic and a little guilty, well aware that this was odd and a little creepy.

Still, even with all of that, she was glad he was here.

‘I’m sorry, I just…’ Mac sighed. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

Beth managed a wan little smile.

‘I’ll forgive you, since I was just wishing you were here.’

That got an answering wan little smile, before it dropped away and Mac jumped to his feet, expression concerned.

‘Nightmare?’ She just nodded, and reached out to hug him. He held her, and rubbed her back soothingly. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

She turned her head a little so that her words weren’t so muffled by his chest. Her voice was a little shaky, and he could feel her muscles tense.

‘It was the worst-case scenario.’

Nightmare images flashed through his mind, accompanied by guilt and fear (what if he’d missed, what if the sedative hadn’t worked, _what if_ …), and he pushed them away with determination, concentrating on tracing the design of those boilers they’d worked on for the Houses on her back with his hand. When she relaxed again, he lifted his head off her shoulder, straightened up and pulled away a little to press a kiss to her forehead. When he lifted his head again, Beth went up on her toes, bracing her hands on his shoulders, to kiss him tenderly, and they let themselves get lost in it for a while, giving and receiving comfort and reassurance.

Afterwards, Beth didn’t let go of his hand (though he didn’t exactly recall when their fingers had gotten tangled together in the first place), and tugged him towards the kitchen.

‘We both need to sleep, and warm milk with cinnamon and nutmeg has been empirically determined to be effective on us both…’

* * *

In the morning, Michael and Caitlyn found them in the family’s private sitting room, with two mugs on the coffee table, just a little bit of nutmeg- and cinnamon-scented milk left in the bottom.

Mac was lying on the couch, fast asleep, and Beth was curled up in an armchair, her legs on the ottoman that’d been shoved in front of it, cuddling a cushion to her chest, just as deeply asleep.

The Lord and Lady Lafayette exchanged a fond smile, then walked out of the room and closed the door as quietly as they could.

* * *

A week later, Nathan was sentenced in Lafayette’s Court of Law to spend the rest of his life in one of Phoenix’s maximum security prisons.

Nicole had looked exhausted and drained, but relieved and triumphant in a way, that she and her children had survived, and that this chapter of her life was over. She reached out and hugged both of her children tight to her, murmuring reassuring, comforting words to them.

* * *

The next day, Jack, Mac and Sir Sidney, accompanied by a dozen Guards and four other Knights, with a chained Nathan in tow, set off for the nearest of Phoenix’s maximum security prisons, located in the neighbouring province of Chicago.

Bozer, Beth, Diane and Riley came to see them off, Nicole deciding that she and her children would skip the occasion, unsurprisingly.

Bozer handed out savoury muffins, and Beth passed out medical kits.

Mac grinned at his best friend when Bozer gave him his snacks, and the two automatically fell into their secret handshake from childhood.

‘Kinda wish I was going with you, bro. You sure you don’t wanna borrow my frying pan?’

Mac bumped his fist to Bozer’s, signalling the end of the handshake.

‘We’ll be back in three days, Boze.’ His expression grew wry. ‘And no, thanks. You can put it to better use.’

Bozer pointed at him.

‘I’ll make burgers for dinner when you get back.’

‘Looking forward to it, Boze.’

Meanwhile, Riley crossed her arms and raised her brows at Jack challengingly.

‘Try not to have your species changed this time.’

He grinned back at her, understanding what she _really_ meant ( _be careful, and come back safely)_ , and held his arms up for a Jack Dalton bear hug.

‘Yeah, don’t worry, Ri, I don’t wanna be a frog or something.’

When he let go of Riley, Diane stepped close to him, and before he could say a word, put a finger over his lips.

‘I’m not kissing you if you’re a frog.’ She leaned forward and kissed him, as if to punctuate what he’d be missing out on. ‘Be safe.’

Beth helped Mac attach his medical kit to his pack, before looking up at him, in a way that was a little reminiscent of the last time she’d given him a medical kit, the day they’d left the Houses to find The Witch of Thorns.

(Her worry was less hidden this time, but also not as strong. This wasn’t a desperate quest for the Kingdom, after all.)

‘Be careful, and safe journey.’

He smiled, and ducked his head a little to kiss her goodbye, quick and chaste and tender.

‘I will.’

She smiled back, and stepped back as they all got onto their horses (Nathan was secured to his mount, and that specially-trained horse’s reins were attached to Jack’s).

Beth, Bozer, Diane and Riley watched until they were out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The storyline with Nicole, Nessa and Nate developed mostly out of the fact that I felt Jack, Diane and Riley needed an impetus for the conversation they really needed to have. I hope you think I handled it well! 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘It’s _meant_ to be, Matty!’


	18. Chapter 18

Three days later, Mac and Bozer’s cottage was packed.

Mac was sitting on the couch with Nate and Nessa, all of them with a plate on their laps and an upside-down burger in their hands. Mac was explaining why one should always eat a burger upside-down between bites.

Perched on the arm of the couch next to Nessa was Nicole, who was chatting to Diane, sitting in the armchair, and Jill, who was leaning on the top of the armchair. (She had befriended the family in the week leading up to Nathan’s trial, as Jill had helped explain the legalese and prepare them.) Nicole and Diane both had plates with burgers on their laps.

Sitting at the kitchen table were Jack, Riley and Sidney, all eating burgers, too. Riley was admonishing Jack for his habit of taking huge bites and chewing with his mouth open, while Sidney observed, hiding his amused smirk behind his food.

In the kitchen, Bozer whipped up more burgers, with Beth’s help.

(He was entrusting her with his secret recipe.)

(She _was_ family, after all. One day, Bozer was absolutely certain, she would be the closest thing he’d have to a sister-in-law.)

* * *

Two weeks after that, a cottage located just half a block from a Guardhouse buzzed with activity, as they helped Nicole, Nate and Nessa move into their new home.

(It was located in a nicer, safer part of town than the family’s old home.)

(The landlord, a retired Engineer named Alexander Oorlov, who’d vacated the cottage as he’d moved into a nursing home, had agreed to a lower-than-market rent.)

(Handily, the next-door neighbour was one Viktor Levkin, a retired Knight and Oorlov’s best friend, and Sidney lived just three doors down and had quietly shifted his watch rotations to be out of the nearby Guardhouse.)

Jack and Sidney moved furniture, while Riley and Bozer carried boxes of possessions.

Mac was crouching by one of the windows, making a couple of improvements for security’s sake (Oorlov was happy to let him, and to be honest, they were already pretty great – Mac suspected that Oorlov would have made the improvements himself, if his arthritis and general old age wasn’t catching up with him), while Jill and Beth unpacked the kitchen supplies and Nate and Nessa their clothes, as Nicole made up the beds with Diane’s assistance.

* * *

Bozer, holding the fanciest invitation he’d ever received in his life (it was signed by the King!), knocked on Riley’s front door.

He grinned at her when she opened it.

‘Good morning!’

She suppressed a yawn. Riley was not a morning person, despite a decade of shifts at the tavern.

‘Morning, Bozer.’

He held up the invitation.

‘So, I got myself an invite to _the_ social event of the year…’ Riley raised an eyebrow at him. The invitation clearly stated that it was a ball thrown by the King in honour of Sir Jack Dalton, the Engineer Angus MacGyver and _Wilt Bozer_ , heroes of the Kingdom. ‘…and I was wondering if you’d be my guest?’

The invitation was addressed to Wilt Bozer and Guest.

In answer, Riley reached behind her and picked up an identical invitation, except for the fact that it was addressed to Riley Davis.

‘I’m already going, Bozer.’

(He supposed that made a lot of sense, in hindsight. It was a ball in Jack’s honour; of course the woman he was courting and her daughter would be invited.)

The wind went out of his sails. He actually visibly deflated. Riley actually felt rather sorry for him.

(He’d toned it down _somewhat_ since Midsummer, which made her feel much more comfortable around him.)

‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘I’ll see you there, then?’

Riley raised her brows again.

‘We’re all going to be travelling to the capital together, Bozer.’

‘Oh, right.’ He paused again. ‘Hope you have a good day!’

And with that, he left, as Riley raised a hand in goodbye.

Bozer was weird. Cute when he was being himself, but weird.

* * *

**CASTLE WASHINGTON**

**WASHINGTON CITY**

* * *

Two weeks later, after they’d arrived at the capital and settled into their accommodation in the castle, Bozer grinned at Riley as they trailed behind Mac, Beth and Jill.

(The young ‘uns – as Jack had called them the other day – were hanging out, as Jack and Diane were going out for dinner, while Beth’s parents were in a meeting with the King.)

The trio in front of them were chattering excitedly about the Library.

Bozer, as a lover of stories and a teller of tales himself, loved Libraries, but he was thinking there was a better option than hanging around Mac, Beth and Jill over-excited about something that no-one else actually really understood all evening.

‘So, Riley, you wanna go on an epic food tour with yours truly? Not to brag, but I know all the best places to eat in town!’

Riley just gestured to the others with her head.

‘Yeah, good luck talking them out of the Library, Boze. Maybe we can go tomorrow night.’

She was well aware that she was deliberately misinterpreting him.

Bozer smiled, but it was a little sad and droopy. Deflated.

‘Yeah.’

He wound up falling behind a little, and got dragged into a secret alcove behind a tapestry by a strong and small hand.

He yelped in surprise, but the noise was drowned out by a loud clock booming to announce 6 pm.

It’d been perfectly timed.

When Bozer collected his scattered wits, he found Matty the Spymaster standing in front of him, her arms crossed.

‘You still have a thing for her, huh?’

Bozer’s brow furrowed. _Still?_ He hadn’t even met Riley until after the last time he’d seen Matty!

Then again, she was the Spymaster with a whole network of Spies…and there was the rumour that she could read minds.

‘Who says I have a thing for her?’

Matty scoffed.

‘Who doesn’t?’

‘It’s _meant to be_ , Matty!’

Matty shook her head internally. Bozer really needed some tough love, and that was right up her alley, even if most people never saw the second bit. She really liked Bozer (he always spoke truth to power, and had a lot of guts), so he was going to get some tough love.

She put her hands on her hips and looked him in the eye.

‘But, Bozer, there is no _it_ here.’ She gestured out towards the corridor, her voice incredulous. ‘I mean, you see that, right?’ She let her expression soften a little. ‘It’s time to move on. Seriously. Dreams are _not_ reality, no matter how much you want them to come true.’ Bozer swore there was something a little sad in her voice, even as her expression grew very Matty-the-Hun again. ‘Suck it up. Dance with some other girls at the ball. _Get over it_.’

She turned on her heel and disappeared through a secret passage in the stone.

Bozer, meanwhile, just shook his head a little as he headed back towards the Library.

‘What does she know about destiny?’

Still, that niggling voice of doubt that’d been in his head ever since Midsummer suddenly got a lot louder.

* * *

‘Jack…can I get some advice?’ The morning of the day of the ball, Bozer tracked down the older man in a courtyard. All the women were indulging in a ‘girls’ day’ and some pampering, while Mac had mentioned something about a haircut and boot polish and run off without further explanation. Jack said a lot. At least half of it was nonsense, but there was a lot of wisdom in there too. And Jack was really charming and good with women. ‘About Riley? I’m stuck, I can’t get her to move onto our future-‘

Jack cut him off immediately.

‘You’re stuck? Okay, couple things. First of all, _stuck_ implies that those dreams you had are gonna happen, she’s gonna be your girl and baby mama and all. But I got news for you, brother. That ain’t up to you. It ain’t up to The Cage Witch or magical dreams or the gods or destiny or whatever either. It’s up to her, man. That’s always up to the girl, you should know that.’ Bozer, to his credit, looked ashamed at that. Mac’s grandfather would be turning in his grave. ‘Second-‘

Not able to hold back, Bozer interrupted.

(He didn’t like Riley just because of the whole curse thing, and not because she was super-hot, at least not anymore; he liked Riley for who she really was – awesome and badass and fiercely independent and sassy and sarcastic and stylish and with a really big heart hidden behind walls of sarcasm and snark, who’d do anything for the people she called her family.)

(He wanted Jack to know and understand that. He was Riley’s kinda-dad, after all.)

‘Okay, but what I’m-‘

Jack held up a hand.

‘Hey, don’t interrupt!’ Bozer shut up. The look in Jack’s eyes was vaguely threatening and scary. ‘I’m not done. Second, anybody who can call Riley Davis a close personal friend is lucky. She’s a good person, man.’ Bozer nodded firmly in agreement. ‘And third, if you don’t start taking no for an answer, I’m gonna go all bear on you and rip your arms off.’

Bozer swallowed. That was a real threat.

Jack nodded, his expression softening a touch, as Bozer looked very lost in thought, and a little ashamed and guilty and a touch confused.

(Bozer was a good guy. One of the very best. He just had issues with boundaries and, Jack guessed, self-esteem issues when it came to women.)

(He hadn’t had a steady courtship for all the years that Jack had known him, and he’d once heard Bozer describe himself as the ‘comic relief that all the girls love, but not in that way!’)

The older man reached out and clapped Bozer on the shoulder.

‘Good talk, man.’ He paused. ‘A wise man once told me that _I’m sorry_ ain’t what fixes the problem, it’s the start of the conversation that does.’

He clapped Bozer on the shoulder again, and the younger man looked up at him briefly, before retuning to staring intently at the flagstones, lost in thought.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

Jack nodded, gave a mock-salute, and stepped away. Before he exited the courtyard, he turned and shot Bozer the scary look again, scrunching his hands into claws to mime a bear.

* * *

In the early evening, in his room, Mac inspected his appearance one last time in the mirror.

He was wearing his formal Engineer’s uniform to the ball, which had had to be specially made for the occasion.

(Engineers weren’t much for formality, so most of them didn’t even own a formal uniform.)

It consisted of a brown leather tunic, the same shade as their coats, with the insignia embroidered on the left breast, worn over a cream-coloured shirt. Black trousers and boots completed the outfit.

His tunic was spotless, as was his shirt. His trousers had been pressed, and his boots were freshly shined. There wasn’t any grease on him (not even under his nails), and he’d even gotten a haircut for the occasion (it was getting too long and a little messy).

With a nod, he grabbed his Engineer’s knife and some paperclips, and put them in his pocket, before heading for the antechamber he was meant to wait in until the King announced him.

* * *

When he got there, Beth was waiting for him. She was also the only person in the chamber, something for which he would be very grateful for later, since he actually stopped and stared for a moment.

He had always thought that she was beautiful, even tired, in the middle of the night, in her Healer’s uniform, with a basket of linens on her hip.

He had never seen her dressed like a _Lady._

(Even the dress she’d worn for Midsummer had been something that, say, a Scribe or a Healer would own.)

Now, she really did look like Lady Bethany, in a deep red dress with gold embroidery, trailing sleeves but no train (trains were fashionable, but also impractical). She had her hair up, braided into an intricate crown around her head, with gold hairpins in it.

He had a very sudden, very sharp urge to disassemble her intricate hairstyle, partly to have his hands in her hair, partly to work out how it was put together.

After what felt like an embarrassing eternity (though objectively, he estimated it to be only a few seconds), he finally managed to make his mouth work, but blurted out the first thing on his mind.

‘You look beautiful.’

(It was very flattering, but it was just blurted out awkwardly without any finesse.)

Beth smiled up at him, her cheeks pinking.

‘Thank you! So do you!’ Her blush darkened and her eyes widened. ‘Uh…you know what I mean.’

She sounded sheepish. His own smile widened, and he stepped closer quickly, kissed her cheek, and offered her his arm, just as Jack, Diane and Bozer arrived and a fanfare began to play.

_I’ve read a few books on formal Court etiquette in my life._

_Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I’m a common-born Engineer; what do I need to know about courtly etiquette?_

_In my defence, A, I read a lot of books. B, empirically, I have just demonstrated that it was useful._

* * *

As soon as the formal portion of the ball concluded, and the eat, drink, dance and be merry part started, Bozer sought out Riley.

‘Hey, Riley.’ He looked her straight in the eye, utterly earnestly. ‘I’m, uh, I’m sorry.’

Her brow furrowed.

‘For what?’

He sighed.

‘For, you know, not taking any of the one billion hints you’ve been dropping. And for making things weird.’ Bozer paused. ‘I let my dreams about what we could be blind me to what we are.’ He smiled, soft and broad. ‘And what we are is pretty great.’

‘Are you saying you’re finally ready to be my friend?’ Bozer nodded. Riley smiled, soft and broad too. ‘Then could we please go grab some snacks and talk about how Mac and Jack seriously need makeovers?’

Bozer grinned.

‘Absolutely.’ The grin turned teasing. ‘On one condition.’ Riley arched an eyebrow as they headed off to one of the buffet tables. ‘Can you give me some advice? ‘Cause, uh, I’ve been thinking about my game, and it could probably use some tweaks.’

Riley nodded, as if to say, _you think?_

‘Yeah.’

‘Little tweaks.’

She gave that nod again.

‘Yeah.’

‘Little tweaks here and there.’

Riley shook her head with fond, amused exasperation, holding up her hands.

‘Alright.’

‘So, when it comes to women…’

* * *

Mac and Beth said their goodbyes to Lord and Lady Chicago after a long conversation on taxation reform, and walked over to the nearest table of food for some sustenance.

About halfway there, they could not help but overhear a conversation between two noblewomen, hardly out of their teens.

‘…I know he’s low-born and has no money-‘

‘And is an Engineer; they’re all _weird_.’

‘But he’s a hero of the Kingdom and he’s really _yummy_.’

The other noblewoman nodded in agreement. Both of them seemed oblivious to the fact that they were close enough to hear them.

‘…I can’t believe he picked _her_! She’s a plain old spinster who spends her days rolling bandages and cleaning chamber pots!’

Mac, unreasonably angry and reminded unpleasantly of Darlene Martin and her friends and how they’d talked about him and giggled in a way that seemed cruel and mocking after she’d rejected his invitation to the Harvest Festival, glanced over at Beth, reaching out and taking her hand.

She looked hurt, and angry too, but mostly resigned, as if she were used to this, expected it.

That made him a little angrier, and he took several deep breaths, letting that anger go.

They were young, silly girls who’d probably not been raised any better. They needed a talking to, and they needed to do some growing up. (Donnie Sandoz was in the Town Guard, and well regarded nowadays.) Now probably wasn’t the time for the talking to, and he probably wasn’t the right one to deliver it.

Beth had just taken a step forwards, continuing towards the food and drink, intending to ignore the girls, when Mac heard a very familiar throat-clearing to his left, a couple of feet closer to the ground.

He looked down, to see Matty, just as the noblewomen turned around.

Their eyes widened when they saw Mac and Beth. They widened further as they saw Matty, who had her hands on her hips and a slightly arched brow.

After some hastily murmured apologies, the two girls scurried off.

(It was well-known that Matilda Webber, Spymaster of Phoenix, had the ear of King Ethan. They were close friends, had been ever since she’d somewhat left the shadowy world of Spies and taken up her post when he’d been crowned five years ago. He valued her opinion and advice greatly, everyone knew, so you didn’t want to get on her bad side.)

Matty turned to Mac and Beth, her expression softening. She smiled at the couple, her expression growing almost-maternal when her eyes fell on Mac.

‘Ignore them, since you can.’

Realistically, all three of them knew that sometimes, you _couldn’t_ ignore those voices. That was the price of a position like Beth’s, a cost that the nobility paid for their privilege.

(Ironically, most of those critiquing voices came _from_ the nobility.)

There was something sad in her voice. Something that seemed _personal._

Mac had a sudden flash of clarity.

King Ethan was a second son. He’d worked and trained with the Spies when he was young, and everyone had assumed that he was being groomed to be the Kingdom’s Spymaster, his older brother’s trusted right hand.

Then, his brother had died suddenly (something that it was strongly suspected Murdoc had had a hand in), and he was thrust into the role of Crown Prince, the only heir to the throne.

There were rumours (whispered rumours) that he’d once loved a Spy, but that she was unsuitable to be the wife of the King in some way.

(Mac could practically hear those stuffy nobles arguing, or the King who’d died five years ago, saying that a King needed an heir, assuring the royal line of Phoenix was essential, so _you can’t marry her_ , _because how could she_ _bear healthy, strong,_ normal _heirs?_ )

(Those were the voices that you could not ignore, unfortunately, no matter how much you wanted. Not without abandoning your duty.)

(And Mac knew that both King Ethan and Matty understood duty and responsibility and service. She would never have even asked him to consider abdicating and abandoning it. Nor would she have refused to serve as his Spymaster when he asked, since she _knew_ she was the best person for the job.)

Mac glanced at the Spymaster, who just gave a little, nearly-imperceptible nod.

He nodded back, hoping that she could read the empathy in his thoughts, even if he was trying to keep a poker face to not betray something that she clearly wanted to keep private.

The solemn nature of the moment was broken by Princess Mara, all of two and a half years old, running over to the Spymaster, excited, probably having had too much sugar, way past her usual bedtime.

‘Auntie Matty!’

Matty smiled, her expression soft and gentle and affectionate in a way that so few ever got to see, and held out her arms to the girl for a hug.

She and Queen Deena, who hurried after her over-excited daughter, shared a fond look over the girl’s shoulder, one that grew to include the King when he joined them after profusely thanking the musicians.

(Mac had spotted him getting autographs from KC and the Sunshine Band earlier.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you, there’s a lot of cameos in here. RobinP, this is for you – I think you know why!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Hope. Let’s call her Hope.’


	19. Chapter 19

A couple of months after the ball, on a cold night in early December, less than a week after the Harvest Festival, Mac woke with a start, images that was seared into his mind, for better or for worse, at the very forefront of his brain.

(He truly didn’t know if it was for better or for worse. She deserved to be remembered, and remembered for her strength and her courage and her love for her village and her sacrifice, and that had all been oh-so-clear in those moments. On the other hand, it reminded him of his own inability to really help her, to do something, to, against all odds, _save_ her.)

Zoe, with frost on her eyelashes, standing in the tundra, her village sheltered by a wall of ice just visible in the background, scared but determined not to show it, and absolutely certain of her decision…the magic mirror that let them communicate turning white as the storm grew and grew, and as her concentration and her magic had to be completely redirected…and then the one single second when it’d shown her again, her nose bleeding, her skin blue with cold, weak and like she’d aged ten years in a matter of hours, the way she’d smiled at him, triumphant and sad and affectionate, somehow, all at once…and then how the mirror, powered by her magic, had flickered, then showed nothing but his tear-stained face.

Mac sighed, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair.

He had long let go of that what-could-have-been, but he would never, ever forget Zoe. He would always care, and he would always rather that it could have turned out differently, that she could have lived.

The first couple of months, those images had featured prominently in his dreams. Nightmares.

They’d faded after a few more, but had returned with a vengeance on the night of her death.

Now, on the second anniversary, they were back again. Not so bad this year, but still there.

He wondered if it had something to do with magic, idly.

With another sigh, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep, Mac got up and pulled on some proper clothes, instead of a sleeping shirt and pants. He then grabbed a warm wool tunic, his Engineer’s coat and a pair of warm boots. Slipping his Engineer’s knife into his coat pocket, he padded out of his bedroom, then to the front door, as quietly as he could so as not to wake Bozer.

* * *

Mac was walking around the silent streets, holding a lantern, coat tightly bundled (it hadn’t snowed yet, but there was a chill in the air and he suspected the first snow was only days away), when he heard a very quiet whimper. Then another.

It was coming from the alleyway he was halfway through passing. Mac ran into the alleyway, searching, holding up his lantern and straining his ears for another sound.

There it was. Another whimper.

And it was coming from the cluster of trash cans at the mouth of the alley.

Mac hurried over, but saw no sign of a person or an animal near or behind the trash cans. He heard another whimper, and pin-pointed the sound to inside one of the trash cans. He lifted the lid, and revealed a tiny, tiny puppy with white fur with brown patches, half-coated with rotting food.

Eyes widening, Mac put down the lantern, and reached in and picked up the puppy, who whimpered, but didn’t struggle or even move, seemingly too weak and cold to do so. He carefully cradled it to his body, under his coat, hoping that his body heat would warm the poor thing, who seemed more than half frozen to death.

Using his other hand, he rummaged through the trash can for any siblings, and when he didn’t find any, tipped out the other trash cans as gently and carefully as he could.

No sign of any other puppies.

Turning his attention back to the one he was holding, Mac crouched down on the cold ground, and shrugged off his jacket, placing the puppy on that, before pulling off his tunic and shirt. He wrapped the puppy, a female who was very, very small and clearly very young, her eyes not yet open, in his shirt, then his tunic, before putting his coat back on and tucking his precious bundle under it.

Then, he scooped up his lantern in his free hand, and ignoring the cold against his skin and the grime the puppy’s exposed head smeared on him, ran towards the Houses of Healing.

(They cared for humans, not animals, but they wouldn’t turn away a half-frozen, horrifyingly weak, abandoned pup little more than a newborn.)

* * *

He was about a third of the way there when he ran into Beth and a Guard accompanying her.

(Mac had stopped by before dinner to walk her home after her shift, only to be told that she was assisting with the birth of twins, anticipated to be difficult, and thus could well be at the Houses all night long.)

The man handed her the lantern and pulled out his sword as Mac came hurtling down the street, but lowered it when he recognized him.

‘ _Mac_?’

Beth sounded confused, and curious.

(He didn’t blame her. He was running down the street at 2 in the morning, wearing a coat but no shirt or tunic, and holding a bundle to his chest.)

Reaching her, he indicated the precious bundle.

‘I found a puppy in a trash can; she can’t be more than a week old and is hypothermic. I think she was abandoned for being the runt of the litter.’

He was no expert on dog breeds, but he was fairly certain that the puppy was a spaniel. They were bred for hunting, so discarding the runt of the litter was, unfortunately, not an uncommon scenario.

There was a flash of anger and something sad and worried in her eyes, before her Healer’s expression settled on her face and she nodded.

‘We’re closer to the castle than the Houses.’

Beth handed the lantern in her hand to the Guard, and grabbed handfuls of her Healer’s dress, hiking up the skirt and taking off at a run towards the castle.

Mac took off with her, lantern in one hand, the puppy held securely in the other.

With no other option, the somewhat-stunned Guard (he was used to Lady Bethany and her not-so-Ladylike behaviour, but this was still very irregular and just weird), ran after them.

* * *

Mac and Beth ran into her family’s private sitting room (it was close to the entry of the castle, small and easy to warm with the large fireplace, and comfortable), and he immediately handed the puppy off to Beth, then hurried to the fireplace to light it.

As soon as the fire was lit, Beth unwrapped the bundle to check on the puppy, running a hand over her to examine her for injuries.

(The puppy, Mac noted, was not all that much bigger than Beth’s hand, and she was a small woman with small hands to match.)

He watched the examination for a couple of seconds, before grabbing the kettle by the fire and speaking.

‘Water, bowl and a clean cloth?’

Beth didn’t look up at him when she responded, focused on her examination.

‘Make that two bowls and several cloths, plus some honey if you can find it.’

He nodded and ran out of the room, kettle in hand.

* * *

When Mac returned, he set the kettle on the fire and put down the basket that contained the bowls and cloths, and crouched down beside Beth, who had finished her examination and was gently massaging the still-floppy puppy. He held out a jar of honey that he’d stolen from the kitchen to her, and Beth took it and opened it, before reaching into her Healer’s apron.

‘How is she?’

Beth took out a very tiny spoon from her apron, using it to scoop out a very small amount of honey. She passed the jar back to Mac.

‘Hypothermia, dehydration and almost-certainly some starvation. She’s very lucky you found her; she wouldn’t have lasted much longer.’ Beth encouraged the puppy to open her mouth, and placed a drop of honey on her tongue. The puppy made a whimper that was somehow less desperate and heart-wrenching than the noises Mac had heard from the trash can. ‘Is she actually just a puppy, or could she be cursed?’

It was half a wry, teasing question, and half-serious.

Mac shrugged, a half-wry, half-serious expression on his face.

‘I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s most likely that she’s just a puppy.’

He took the kettle out of the fire, and poured some of the water into one of the bowls he’d brought back, dipping a finger in it to check the temperature. It was warm, but not hot, so he filled the bowl and passed it to Beth.

She grabbed a cloth, dipped it in the water, and gently wiped the puppy down, getting rid of all the muck and grime.

Meanwhile, the puppy started to perk up a little, finally losing the floppy demeanour and beginning to move slightly.

When she was clean and dry again, her head lifted a little, looking blindly towards Mac, guided by her nose.

Beth gave a soft smile, and handed the puppy over to Mac.

‘There you go, little one.’ She looked up at him. ‘She knows she owes you.’

Mac smiled too, shaking his head, cradling the puppy to himself, as Beth poured out another bowl of warm water, grabbing another cloth and starting to clean the muck off his chest.

He shifted the puppy to one hand.

‘I can do that-‘

Beth just shook her head, continuing her task.

‘So can I, and I think she prefers you.’

The puppy certainly did look relatively perkier, and had cuddled into her saviour.

When the damp cloth reached the scar on his left pectoral, far too close to his heart, Mac looked up from the puppy and at Beth.

The look in her eyes wasn’t really Healer-y, but softer and sadder and sorrier.

More _love_ than _care._

When her task was done, Beth bundled up the soiled cloths, and put the bowls of used water back into the basket, before standing and picking it up.

‘I’m going to get some goat’s milk, and something to serve as a bed for her.’

He nodded, running a finger over the tiny (too tiny) puppy’s back.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Beth was feeding the puppy warmed goat’s milk using a dropper from her Healer’s kit, while Mac lined a basket with an old, clean sheet, close to the fire, but not too close so it wasn’t too hot.

When he was done, Beth looked up from where she was softly massaging the now-sated puppy’s lower abdomen, before wiping her down with a warm, damp cloth.

(Very young puppies could not defecate or urinate on their own, and needed help, either from their mother or a surrogate human carer.)

‘Put a wet cloth over the side close to the fire; it’ll stop her skin from drying out.’ Beth picked up the little spaniel, and set her down gently in her new bed, before glancing up at the clock on the mantle. ‘We’ll need to feed her every three hours, and I think one of us should keep an eye on her at all times…’

She looked at the now-snoozing puppy in the basket, clearly worried, but also determinedly hopeful.

They both knew that this little puppy, who’d been dealt a very tough hand in life already, had a fight ahead of her. She’d perked up a lot with warmth, care, the honey and milk, but her life was still fragile.

If she made it through the next twenty-four hours, the odds were a lot better.

The puppy gave a little yip as she curled up into what seemed to be a more comfortable position. Immediately after, Beth yawned loudly.

Mac couldn’t help but smile at that, and reached out and put an arm around his Lady for a side-hug.

‘I’ll take first shift; you get some sleep.’

* * *

Three and a half hours later, Mac had finished feeding and cleaning the puppy, and Beth had woken up for her shift.

He placed the puppy back into her basket and watched her curl up and fall asleep as Beth ran a cold washcloth over her face.

He smiled as she put it down, and gestured towards the basket, feeling oddly like how he’d imagine a proud parent would.

‘She’s fast asleep, and seemed to have a good appetite.’

Beth smiled too, and got up off the couch to look at the peacefully-sleeping puppy herself.

After a moment of the two of them watching her, Beth looked up at him, tilting her head to the left, looking a little curious (because she was _her_ ), but mostly concerned.

‘Mac, why were you walking around town in the middle of the night?’

He stared at the soundly-sleeping puppy, not really seeing her, for a moment longer, before turning to Beth, absent-mindedly pulling a paperclip out of his pocket as he started to speak.

‘Two years ago, Murdoc caused a terrible storm in the north. An ice-witch who lived in one of the villages he was targeting detected it forming, two and a half days before it hit. Her name was Zoe, and she created a magic mirror to contact Matty…’

* * *

‘…no-one died in that storm.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘Except Zoe.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mac.’ Beth’s eyes were soft, sad and sympathetic as he finished the story. ‘I really want to give you a hug. Can I give you a hug?’

He gave a wan little smile and nodded, holding up his arms. She scooted over on the couch, closer to him, and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly until he let go of her.

‘You’d have liked her.’

That made Beth’s smile widen, and she nodded in agreement. Then, she got up and crouched next to the puppy’s basket again, examining her (still sleeping peacefully, body temperature neither hot nor cold to the touch), before looking over at Mac again.

‘She needs a name.’ Beth gestured to the puppy, and continued, a touch hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure how he’d receive what she was about to say. ‘We could call her Zoe?’

Exactly when the puppy had become _theirs,_ Mac wasn’t sure, but he was happy with that turn of events.

He considered for a moment, before shaking his head.

He wasn’t superstitious, nor did he think that the slight weirdness of naming the puppy you shared with your current romantic partner, the person you were seriously thinking was your right one, after someone who might have been your right one (if she’d lived) was a reason not to do it.

(Beth didn’t seem to find it weird, after all.)

But it just didn’t feel _quite_ right.

Still, it stirred something up in his mind, and suddenly, a memory of Zoe’s voice, exactly as it’d sounded the day he’d heard those words, during a quiet moment, a lull.

_‘I hope this works.’_

_Mac had smiled, as reassuringly as he could, though he’d suspected it’d come out grim._

_‘It will.’_

_It had to._

_Zoe looked up at him, a little smile on her face too, a touch sad and reminiscent._

_‘My grandma used to say that hope might burn low, but it’s almost impossible to put out.’_

_‘Your grandma sounds like a wise woman.’_

He got up from the couch, and crouched down next to Beth, absent-mindedly reaching out for her hand as he looked down at the puppy.

‘Hope. Let’s call her Hope.’ He probably should give some kind of explanation. ‘As small and weak though it may be, hope almost never dies.’

Beth nodded in agreement, smiling wider as she reached out with a finger to stroke Hope’s back.

‘And hope grows stronger with a little help and kindness.’

* * *

The next morning, Michael and Caitlyn found their daughter feeding a puppy through a dropper, still in her Healer’s uniform, while Mac slept on the couch, wearing a shirt that didn’t quite fit right and with a throw blanket draped over him.

They smiled, and Caitlyn went over to be introduced to the newest member of the family, while Michael went to find a servant to ask for some breakfast to be delivered to the sitting room.

(Clearly, his daughter and Mac had been taking shifts most of the night to look after the puppy.)

(He figured it was good practice for the future.)

* * *

Three weeks later, on Yule, Bozer took the boiling potatoes off the stove, and drained them, dumping the potato quarters into a bowl.

He put the carrots in to blanch before they were sautéed in a honey glaze, and then took the milk-and-butter mixture off the stove. Then, he pulled out a device that looked like some kind of press, though neither side was flat – one had a potato-sized divot, the other a potato-sized bulge so that they fit together neatly. The divot side had many holes in it.

Bozer held it up with a grin.

‘My bro Mac made this for me, and it’s the secret to the _best, creamiest, fluffiest_ mashed potatoes!’ Riley, who was in the kitchen with him, acting as an assistant and getting some cooking lessons, raised an eyebrow sceptically. ‘Trust me, one mouthful, and you’ll be a believer, Miss Davis!’

Bozer demonstrated how to use the device, putting a potato into the divot, then squishing it through the press using the top, bulging part.

Then, he handed it over to her, and lifted the cover off a pan sitting on the counter, to reveal a side of beef. He made a satisfied, happy noise, and started to carve it. It smelled and looked divine, though different from any roast beef Riley had ever eaten.

‘What is _that?’_

Bozer grinned, continuing to carve the meat.

‘This is pastrami!’

* * *

Riley, the mashed potatoes all finished and put into a pre-warmed earthenware pot by the stove so they’d stay warm, stole a second piece of pastrami and sat down at the counter as Bozer finished off their Yule dinner, chattering all the while, telling her a story about how his family had started eating pastrami for Christmas and how his great-grandfather had invented the recipe and how his parents had fallen in love over a pastrami dinner.

She finished off the slice and was seriously tempted to lick her fingers.

‘Seriously, Boze, you should open a restaurant.’

She absolutely meant it. The place would be packed every night, and it was a way better use of his time than essentially keeping house for Mac while he wrote a play based on his best friend’s life.

(After all, it wouldn’t be long, surely, before Mac and Beth got married and he moved into the castle.)

(And Bozer was a much better cook than playwright, despite his enthusiasm for the latter.)

* * *

Meanwhile, in the living room, Hope, who had grown and gained weight (she was now seven times’ her weight when Mac had found her), though she still remained on the small side, lapped at the little bowl of pumpkin soup (completely unseasoned – it was just a little bit of pumpkin, boiled until super-soft and then mashed and mixed with plenty of water) that’d been placed in front of her bed for her.

She was a little clumsy and got it everywhere, lapping being a new skill that she was still learning.

When she was finished, she burrowed back into her bed, a repurposed apple crate, the cushion made of an old sheet stuffed with fabric scraps. It usually sat at the foot of Mac’s bed, but he and Bozer had brought it out today so that she could socialize with the family.

(Her owners were currently still at the castle, since they’d had Yule lunch with her parents. They’d be joining Bozer, Riley, Jack and Diane for Yule dinner soon.)

When the door swung open, Hope burrowed into her bed.

(She was shy and timid around strangers, and only seemed to be able to immediately recognize Mac, Beth and Bozer as not-strangers so far.)

Jack and Diane stepped inside, and took off their snow-covered boots and coats and hats, hanging them up in the entryway.

Then, Diane smiled mischievously and pointed up at the doorframe.

‘Oh, look, mistletoe.’

There was indeed a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the top of the frame.

Jack grinned, and leaned forward to kiss her. It was a proper kiss too, since Riley was busy in the kitchen serving as Bozer’s assistant.

(He, in Jack’s opinion, could be a crazy control-freak and a harsh critic when it came to cooking.)

(Those peppers weren’t _that_ burned…)

When he and Diane broke apart, Jack smiled, that wide, soft, fond and stupidly besotted-looking smile that had been absent from his face for years.

(Thankfully, not _too_ many years, it seemed, for him and Diane.)

Yule really was so much better when you had family to spend it with.

Jack and Diane then headed over to the fireplace, to warm up more, and to say hello to Hope.

‘Hi, sweetheart, how you doing?’

‘Oh, aren’t you _adorable_ , baby girl…’

Jack and Diane held their hands out to Hope to let her give them a little sniff, give her a chance to recognize them.

Hope looked up at them, sniffed their hands, and then yipped happily as she recognized the really big and really loud man who was really gentle with her and the sweet-smelling lady who was really good at stroking her just behind the ears. They almost-always seemed to be together, and smelled just a little bit like each other.

Happy to see them, she pushed her nose into Jack’s hand, then Diane’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Mac and Beth got a dog. This was not in any way planned; Hope kinda wrote herself in! (They’ve previously had a pet in one of my other AUs, a dog called Hippocrates, but I changed things up a bit.)
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Does _everybody_ know?’


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a bit of a time-skip here of six months.

On Midsummer morning, Mac jogged down the street towards his and Bozer’s cottage, Hope’s leash in hand, both of them cooling down after their morning run.

Hope had grown and thrived into a still-small, but healthy, energetic Springer Spaniel, who enjoyed running with Mac every other day, chasing after thrown balls or sticks, playing with the town’s kids (especially the kids from the orphanage, who were generally particularly attentive and affectionate) and curling up in front of the fire, especially between or beside her ‘parents’, as Bozer liked to call him and Beth.

At the same time, his and Beth’s relationship had grown and thrived too. A month ago, he’d asked her parents for their blessing, and just two days previously, he’d taken delivery of a betrothal necklace that he’d worked with a silversmith to create.

And now, he was feeling nervous, hence an extra-long run for him and Hope this morning.

(He really shouldn’t be nervous, not at all. With the rumours flying around town and the fact that Beth was a Lady who needed to marry and bear an heir to Lafayette, they talked a lot more about marriage and their future together than other courting couples. He knew she wouldn’t say no, and thought that the timing was right, particularly since it’d take at least three months to plan the wedding.)

(A Lady and a hero of the Kingdom couldn’t just have a quick, simple ceremony with just their nearest and dearest that could be planned in two weeks. Invitations had to be sent out, with proper notice for guests to travel from all over the Kingdom, there’d be a lot of people there that they didn’t like much or hardly knew, and it could apparently take three months to just make her dress.)

Bozer had breakfast on the table for him when he got home, and breakfast in a bowl under the table for Hope. His best friend was scarfing down his own meal, as he had to be at his and Riley’s restaurant in twenty minutes, to prepare for lunch service, though they were closing for dinner so that they and the restaurant staff could enjoy some of the Midsummer festivities.

(Bozer and Riley had decided to open a restaurant together the previous January. Bozer was, of course, an excellent and passionate cook, and Riley had a lot of experience with working in food service. She also had a good head for numbers and kept the books excellently, it’d turned out. Both of them had worked hard, Bozer motivated by his love of food and cooking and, Mac suspected, the desire to carve out something for himself, to be known for something himself, and not a tack-on to Mac and Jack – which was unfair to Bozer, who’d contributed to their quest just as much, simply in a much less glamourous way. Riley, he was sure, was motivated by a desire to make something of her own. The restaurant was now doing very well, becoming a popular eating destination for the denizens of Lafayette Town.)

‘Morning, bro.’

‘Morning, Boze.’

Bozer grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

‘Excited for Midsummer?’

Mac shook his head in a way that was both affectionate and exasperated. Bozer had been like this ever since he’d collected Beth’s betrothal necklace.

‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘For a long time, I thought I wouldn’t get this chance.’

Bozer nodded in understanding. Mac was one of those people who had wanted a family from a young age. It was probably because he was _Mac_ and had lost his parents as a kid and had a heart bigger than his very big brain.

And for a long time, that had looked increasingly unlikely.

(Seriously, Bozer’s bro’s love life was tragic and depressing and ridiculously dramatic. Without even an ounce of exaggeration, it’d be a great story.)

(At least, it had been until about a year and a half ago, when he’d met Beth.)

(Well, it wasn’t tragic or depressing – and Bozer had all of his fingers and toes crossed that it would never become that – but there had admittedly been a bit of drama, since Mac had been a dog for a while and all.)

He reached out and bumped his fist to Mac’s.

‘Congrats, bro.’ His expression shifted into something teasing. ‘And you know, Wilt or Bozer would make a great name for a baby boy or girl.’

* * *

‘Morning, Bozer!’

Riley called out as she walked into the restaurant, and Bozer called back from the kitchen.

‘Morning, Riley!’

She walked to the back of the restaurant, and grabbed an apron from the hooks hanging just inside the kitchen door, putting it on.

‘What can I do to help?’

Bozer answered with a glance at a huge basket of carrots.

‘Peel those?’

Riley grabbed the carrots and dumped them into the sink for washing.

‘Done.’

* * *

Riley glanced up at her business partner as he hummed to himself while stirring a delicious-smelling sauce on the stove, quirking an eyebrow at the ridiculous grin on his face.

‘It’s sweet that you’re so happy for Mac, Boze, but if you keep grinning like that, you’re gonna give his surprise away.’

Bozer waved a hand, in a _pshaw_ gesture.

‘ _What_ surprise?’

That was an excellent point.

Still, Riley reached out and socked Bozer lightly in the arm anyway.

‘ _Some_ of it is a surprise.’

The exact timing, for one, though Riley was pretty sure Beth must have guessed that Midsummer (apparently their anniversary, though no-one would have guessed that, since they’d been acting all couple-y before that anyway) was a likely candidate.

Or the actual design of her betrothal necklace.

Bozer held up his hands in surrender.

‘Okay, okay, point taken, I’ll try and tone it down...’ He gestured at the spice rack. ‘Can you pass me the paprika?’

* * *

‘…Oi, brother, come on, daylight’s burning! We gotta get in that rematch!’

In his bedroom, sitting at his desk, Mac put down Beth’s betrothal necklace, shaking his head with a smile as he heard Jack barge in (he had a key, and Mac had told him he didn’t have to knock). The retired Knight crossed the living room and knocked on Mac’s bedroom door, and the blonde got up to open it.

‘We’ve got _all day_ to get it in, Jack.’

‘Time flies, man!’ His eyes were caught by the jewellery on Mac’s desk, and he nodded towards it. ‘That it?’

‘Yeah.’

Mac reached out and picked up the necklace, holding it out and putting it on Jack’s outstretched palm.

Necklaces were the traditional betrothal gift in Phoenix, though rings (extravagant and with large jewels) tended to be more common among the upper classes and nobility (who usually had other necklaces they’d want to wear, to match their outfits).

Still, as Beth was a Healer who worked with her hands and couldn’t wear anything more than a simple band, a necklace made sense.

(Mac was also common-born, and wanted to make a statement – he’d marry her whether she was a Lady or a poor widow’s daughter.)

The necklace was gold, and had the three traditional pendants hanging from it. The central one, then one each to represent the bride and the groom.

Beth’s necklace had an intricate love knot in the centre (the traditional central pendant, rather than the hearts that had become more popular of late), a paperclip on the left and a Rod of Asclepius, the symbol of the Healers, on the right.

Jack smiled, and handed the necklace back to Mac.

‘She’s gonna love it, son.’ He reached out and clasped the younger man’s shoulder. ‘I’m real glad for you, man. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you. Both of you.’

Mac smiled.

‘Thanks, Jack.’ He paused, raising the necklace a little before he pocketed it. ‘Will you be needing one of these sometime soon?’

It was an earnest, serious question. Jack had mentioned wanting to settle down and have little Jacks more than once, though it’d been a couple of years since, now.

A flicker of sadness, then a touch of resignation, followed by resolute acceptance crossed Jack’s face.

‘Diane’s got a lot of baggage ‘bout marriage.’ Mac nodded in understanding. ‘I don’t know if she’ll ever want to tie the knot again.’ Jack shrugged. ‘It don’t really matter; we don’t need rings or a piece of paper to show that we’re committed.’ Mac nodded again, and reached out and clasped Jack’s shoulder, which got a smile out of the older man. Then, Jack smirked and pointed at the blonde. ‘Now, you ready to get your ass kicked?’

Mac raised an eyebrow and smirked.

‘I think you mean, are _you_ ready to get _your_ ass kicked?’

* * *

When their best-of-three darts competition was over, and he’d won resoundingly, Mac turned to Jack, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

‘You threw that, Jack.’

Jack affected a look of incredulous confusion.

‘Of course I threw that! It’s a darts game! You gotta throw the darts!’ Mac just arched his eyebrow higher. Jack muttered something that sounded like _fine_ and held up his hands. ‘Just thought you could do with a little confidence boost.’

Mac shook his head and gave an incredulous snort, but reached out and clapped Jack on the back too.

‘Thanks.’

* * *

After the ball game that he and Jack were playing with a bunch of children wrapped up (he still didn’t quite understand the rules), a little girl whose hair had been freshly braided by Diane ran over to Mac, clutching a dandelion puff-ball in her little hand.

She held it out to him very seriously.

‘Make a wish for good luck!’

The little girl gestured over at Beth, who was standing under a tree to the side of the grassy area, handing out treats, before thrusting the dandelion puff-ball at him insistently.

With a slightly-wry smile, Mac reached out and took the dandelion puff-ball and blew at it, sending the seeds flying in the wind.

* * *

As Jack, Diane and Mac browsed a stall selling scented soaps, the elderly woman running the stall leaned closer to Mac and congratulated him, before trying to sell him ‘manly’ pine-scented soap because his ‘new bride wouldn’t appreciate him smelling like a blacksmith’s shop’.

(Mac usually _did_ have the scent of grease and wood-smoke and metal hanging around him, to be fair.)

(Beth had yet to make any complaints.)

Mac spluttered a little as he tried to politely decline the _very_ insistent soap-maker.

Jack and Diane, who’d heard the whole interaction, tried not to laugh.

(Diane did a much better job than Jack, since she was actually trying properly, though Jack did clap the younger man on the back as they walked away, Mac a couple of dollars poorer and a bar of pine-scented soap richer.)

* * *

Mac and Jack were helping to set up a children’s game when Nate, who was helping run the kids’ games this year, made eye contact with Mac, used his head to point at Beth (who was holding one end of a skipping rope for a group of excited kids), before giving him a thumbs-up and, for some reason, a salute.

Jack grinned at the young teen, while Mac looked rather incredulous, but nodded in acknowledgement and smiled anyway, mentally calculating an estimate for the rate of spread for this gossip, assuming that it all started from the silversmith.

* * *

The barkeep grinned at Mac as he set down four mugs of cordial on the rough-hewn table in the middle of a group of food stalls (the owners had banded together for mutual benefit to set up the eating area) that Mac, Jack and Diane were seated at.

(Beth was joining them for lunch, and had walked over with them, but had been waylaid by Mrs Kastrati, of all people.)

‘Good luck!’

Mac stared incredulously at the man as he returned to his bar, flinging up his hands.

‘Does _everybody_ know?’

‘Know what?’

Beth walked up to their table at that exact moment, having managed to extricate herself from Mrs Kastrati’s clutches at last.

‘Uh…about Schrödinger’s cat.’

‘That our boy wants roast beef with mustard and pickled cabbage and creamed spinach for dinner.’

Diane had to resist the urge to face-palm at Mac and Jack’s explanations.

Beth blinked a couple of times, looking briefly confused, before a flicker of almost-realization (it was closer to suspicion) and accompanying excitement crossed her face. It vanished quickly enough, and she just smiled and nodded.

‘Well, you did tell all the kids at the orphanage about Schrödinger’s cat, and you know how they like to talk about you.’ Her smile grew wry. ‘As for the dinner request, firstly, pickled cabbage isn’t really popular at this time of year, and secondly, don’t you dislike creamed spinach?’

Jack leaned over and put an arm around Mac, gesturing at him with his free hand.

‘He’s recently changed his mind.’ Jack paused. ‘Not about anything else, he’s still all certain on that, just the creamed spinach.’

Beth nodded slowly, her brows still raised.

‘…Right.’ She indicated the empty basket in her right hand. ‘Well, I’ve got to get this refilled. Mac, could you order me a sandwich containing some kind of fowl and vegetables?’

He nodded, and she ducked down a little to kiss his cheek, before hurrying off towards the bakery stalls.

Mac, meanwhile, as soon as she was out of sight, shot Jack a dirty look.

The older man raised his hands in protest.

‘Hey, I helped you out, brother! You should be _thanking_ me!’

Mac just looked utterly incredulous.

Diane gave up on dignity and covered her forehead with a hand. After a moment, she took pity on Jack (who was staring incredulously at Mac, who’d gone to put in their food orders), and leaned a little closer to him.

‘Not everyone shares your taste in food, Jack Dalton.’

He crossed his arms grumpily.

‘Kid’s gotta give creamed spinach a chance. Especially with mustard.’

She patted his arm lightly, indulgently.

‘It’s an…interesting and acquired taste.’

* * *

After she took his order, the tavern-keeper from Beth’s favourite tavern (which was closed for the day as they were running a food stall instead) just smiled knowingly at him.

‘ _Everyone’s_ known for ages, MacGyver.’ She pointed at him. ‘Now, you better not chicken out, son, ‘cause I got ten dollars riding on it.’

* * *

During the quieter lull between the day’s Midsummer festivities and the evening’s, Riley stretched her arms up to stretch out her back as Bozer locked their restaurant.

Then, they started heading off in the direction of their homes to get cleaned up and changed for a night of well-earned revelry.

With a teasing smirk, Bozer bumped his shoulder to Riley’s.

‘You hoping for a dance or two with Billy?’

In the last couple of months, Billy Colton had taken to visiting his and Riley’s restaurant whenever he was in town. He always tipped generously and timed his visits for when they were quieter and less busy, making conversation with her, asking her how her day went and the like. Recently, it’d stepped up a little to casual compliments slipped into the conversation.

(The guy was _smooth._ )

Riley shrugged, but it wasn’t nonchalant at all. No, Bozer could tell that she was just trying to be nonchalant.

(She did a pretty good job of it, but he knew her.)

‘We’ll see. I don’t even know if he’s in town.’

Bozer looked incredulously at her.

‘As if he’d let Midsummer go by without at least dancing with you, Riles! Guy’s got a fire burning for you!’ Riley waved a hand, trying to be nonchalant again. Bozer smirked, and pointed at her. ‘Hey, you’re blushing, Miss Davis!’

‘Am not!’

Bozer shook his head, waggling his finger at her as he impersonated an old man.

‘Oh, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, little lady.’ He really had. Given his behaviour, the way that Billy looked at Riley was to be expected and just plain obvious, but Riley looked right back at him the same way. ‘Mac’s seen the way you look at each other, and even he gets it, so you’re not fooling anyone!’

(Mac always noticed things like this. He had some trouble interpreting such interactions correctly, though.)

Riley just shook her head, though she admitted (at least to herself) that she _was_ blushing a tiny bit.

‘We’ll see, Boze.’

* * *

Meanwhile, in the storage room off Lord Michael’s workshop, Jill stood off to the side, holding a clipboard with a pencil behind her ear, along with Alex Lucas, wearing his Engineer’s coat and leaning against the wall, arms crossed casually and one leg bent so his foot was against the stone.

(Mac had put the two of them in charge of setting up the fireworks display, since he planned to be ‘otherwise occupied’.)

An apprentice Engineer finished gathering up a stack of fireworks and scurried out towards the far north-east corner of the Castle.

Once the two of them were alone, Alex reached out and took her hand, tugging her gently to him with a smile that was nearly a smirk, though the look in his eyes was nothing but affectionate.

Jill swatted him lightly on the chest with her clipboard.

‘Alex! What if somebody comes in?’

The smile shifted a bit more towards a smirk.

‘The other Engineers are going to be busy with the fireworks for at least another ten minutes, and we all know not to expect Mac or Beth, so…’

Jill shook her head fondly, pulling away a little (but not letting go of his hand), so that she could put her free hand on her hip and cock it to the side, a teasing smile on her face.

‘We’re supposed to be supervising the fireworks set-up. Your priorities need re-organizing.’

Alex just grinned, giving her hand a little tug as she stepped close to him again.

‘You approve of the order of my priorities.’

Jill smiled a little bit sheepishly, but nodded, and reached up a little to kiss him.

* * *

Just before the fireworks display started, Jack bought a round of drinks for himself, Diane, Bozer and Riley. He smiled at Riley, soft and slow and broad, when he handed her her mug of beer.

‘How’s it going at yours and Bozer’s?’

She smiled back at him, taking the beer.

‘Busy. Tiring. But really good.’

Jack nodded, his smile widening, and reached out and put an arm around his surrogate daughter for a side-hug.

‘I’m real proud of you, Ri.’ She could read it in his eyes, across his face, in his voice. He was every inch the proud father. ‘Real, real proud.’

Riley’s smile widened too, and she put an arm around Jack and squeezed in return, before resting her head on his shoulder for a moment as the first of the fireworks started.

‘I know, Jack. I know.’

* * *

Jack, holding a chicken leg in his left hand, chewed and swallowed his mouthful of meat before speaking, waving his right hand around.

‘Seriously, where is our boy and his girl?’ Jack gestured impatiently over at where the musicians had started to play and the dancefloor was becoming populated, before turning to face Diane, Riley and Bozer, who were also standing there and eating their own dinner. ‘What’s taking him so long?’ Diane arched an eyebrow at Jack, while Riley made a face, as if something that she didn’t want to think about had crossed her mind. ‘Mac does everything fast, even all the things that shouldn’t be done fast!’

Diane’s eyebrow arched further, and she let out a rather elegant snort, while Riley’s _ugh_ face intensified.

Meanwhile, Bozer and Jack shared a look and a half-shudder, as they remembered the time they’d let Mac drive the cart.

(He was henceforth banned from driving.)

Diane passed Jack a plate with some salad on it, and leaned over and kissed his cheek, before whispering something in his ear that calmed him down a little.

Bozer, meanwhile, swallowed his own mouthful of food and smirked.

‘Jack’s becoming domesticated, and he likes it!’

Riley smiled over her own plate of food, soft and fond and just _happy._

Then, they heard familiar voices behind them, over the noise of the crowd.

‘Hi, Riley, Bozer.’

‘What’d we miss?’

They turned around, to see Mac and Beth standing there, holding hands, both grinning like idiots. There was a gold necklace around her neck, bearing a paperclip, a Rod of Asclepius and a love knot.

Riley grinned back at them.

‘Congratulations!’

Bozer, meanwhile, actually sniffled and muttered something about his bro growing up so fast and having come so far since Darlene Martin, while Jack, grinning like a proud father, ordered a round of drinks from the nearest barkeep, and Diane made her way over to congratulate the young couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s finally a wedding on the horizon! I did so love writing the gossiping townspeople…and Mac and Jack’s silly explanations!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘And I would rather not spend tonight purging his stomach.’


	21. Chapter 21

After a round of drinks, Jack and Diane waltzed to a slow song on the edge of the dancefloor.

Jack smiled, soft and slow, before speaking, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, with gentleness that would surprise anyone who’d ever encountered him on the battlefield, but didn’t surprise Diane, and never really had.

‘It’s been a good year.’

There was just the tiniest bit of a question in there.

Diane’s smile widened, and she looked him right back in the eye, a sparkle in her eye, along with deep contentment, happiness.

‘It’s been a very good year, Jack Dalton.’

* * *

‘You’re getting _married_!’

Nessa flung her arms around Beth, who just laughed and hugged the girl back. Meanwhile, Nate just grinned and saluted Mac again (he was still trying to work out _why_ ), as his mother came up to him and Beth at a more sedate pace than her children, smiling.

‘Congratulations!’

‘Thanks.’

Sidney, who was sitting with some of his men on a nearby log, called out, gesturing to his friends.

‘Hey, Mac, can we buy you a drink to celebrate?’

Mac smiled wryly at the clapping and cheering men next to Sidney.

(Most of them were saying something along the lines of, _it’s about time_!)

‘Do I get a choice in the matter?’

The Guard sitting next to the big Knight grinned.

‘Nope!’

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sidney returned, holding six mugs in his huge hands.

‘Lemonade for the kiddos…’ He re-organized the mugs in his hands a little, taking four into his left hand, and holding out the other two to Nate, who took them and passed one to his sister. ‘…cordial for the Lady…’ He offered Beth another mug, and she took it with a smile and a nod in thanks. ‘…beer for you…’ He handed a mug to Mac, then held out the remaining two mugs to Nicole. ‘And either beer or cordial for you, lady’s choice.’

Nicole smiled and took the mug of cordial, and after smiling at her in return and clinking his mug to hers, Sidney leaned a little closer to Mac and Beth, gestured to the mug of beer that the blonde was holding.

‘I had ‘em water it down. Everyone’s gonna want to buy you drinks tonight. Figured you wouldn’t want to spend tonight sick as a dog, Mac.’

Beth gave a wry smile.

‘And I would rather not spend tonight purging his stomach.’

(Beth was pretty much immune to disgusting bodily fluids, but she’d still rather not spend the night forcing medicines down her new fiancé’s throat to make him expel as much of the alcohol he’d consumed as possible to treat his alcohol poisoning.)

Mac nodded in agreement, and raised his mug to Sidney.

‘Thanks, big guy.’

* * *

Bozer, an empty mug in his hand, searched for the station where you could return your used drinking ware, rather fruitlessly.

He heard a female voice to the right.

‘It’s on your left.’

He turned to face the speaker, and found a beautiful woman about his age with full lips, light-brown skin and long, straight brown hair.

Deftly, she side-stepped what appeared to be a bread roll inexplicably thrown by a drunk man.

Bozer’s brain went fishing. He was pretty sure he was gaping a little.

The magnificent woman’s eyebrow arched.

‘Your _other_ left.’

* * *

‘Hey, Riley.’ She turned around, to see Billy Colton standing there, holding a single red rose, which he held out to her. ‘Happy Midsummer.’

Riley arched an eyebrow at him.

‘The idea of a man bringing a woman flowers is outdated. Flowers die in a few days, and then what? It’s just garbage in a vase.’

Billy shrugged.

‘Maybe.’ He twiddled the rose slightly in his fingers. ‘But I was raised to show a woman proper appreciation and respect. One way to do that is to give her flowers.’

Riley looked at the rose for a moment, before crossing her arms and looking straight at him.

‘I don’t have time for some super-complicated relationship right now.’

Billy shook his head after studying her for a moment.

‘I don’t buy that. At all.’ Riley looked incredulous, but he continued with another head-shake. ‘No, see, I’ve met women like you. Awesome and badass in every single way except when it comes to romance.’ He was definitely putting the moves on her, but there was something genuinely…caring, concerned, perhaps in his eyes. ‘You don’t go all in because, and I’m just guessing here, but I reckon you’ve got some trust issues.’

Riley snorted and raised an eyebrow at him.

‘You learned that in bounty hunting school?’

Billy just gave her an easy smile.

‘Look, what you need is a man that you can count on. One that always comes through and never lets you down.’

‘And let me guess: you’re that kind of man.’

The smile shifted into an equally easy smirk, as Billy held up his hands.

‘Your words, not mine.’

She snorted again, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

‘Alright, I’m going to need you to tone it down on the cockiness.’

‘Look, in my line of work, confidence is key. The guys I deal with every day will chew you up and spit you out if they smell one shred of weakness.’ Billy’s expression shifted again, growing oddly earnest, gentle, even. ‘Now, if you want to know what kind of guy I am, Miss Davis, you’re gonna have to give us a chance to get to know each other a little better.’

He held the rose out to her again, looking her in the eye. Riley looked right back at him, weighing him up.

Billy Colton was, behind the bad-boy swagger and clothes, a genuinely good man.

She knew that for sure, having known him in a peripheral sense for almost a year, and having met Mama Colton, the formidable cook of Castle Lafayette, many times.

(Mama Colton and her mother were good friends. In some ways, she was like an aunt to Beth, too.)

Mama Colton would never raise a son any less than a gentleman.

And she knew it even from the way that he treated her and the other serving girls at the restaurant; always with a charming smile and a generous tip, never with leers or attempts to touch.

(She knew he looked at her – she looked back at him the same way, after all – and he’d flirt with her too, but in a way that seemed like he’d stop if she told him to, without any complaints.)

Tonight was the most he’d ever pushed her, and she got the feeling that if she rejected him tonight, he’d never push again.

She found she really didn’t like that idea. Not at all.

So, Riley reached out and took the flower, tucking it behind her ear.

Billy smiled, slow and surprisingly soft, before offering her his hand like she was some fancy Lady.

‘I heard you got moves, and I’m told I’m a great dance partner…so, you wanna show off a little?’

Riley shook her head, but took his hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

* * *

At around 11 am, just after they’d opened, Leanna Martin, the woman Bozer had met three days ago at Midsummer, came into the restaurant.

Riley smiled to herself and took Leanna’s order, before telling Bozer to bring it out himself. He’d looked confused, but had complied.

Then, when he walked into the dining room, he froze and blinked once or twice.

(Riley, subtly watching from her hostess station, face-palmed internally.)

Collecting himself, Bozer set out the house lunch special (a pastrami sandwich on rye with cheese, pickled cabbage and a secret sauce) in front of Leanna, who smiled up at him.

‘I have Court at noon…’ Leanna was a Lawyer. ‘…but _someone_ told me I just had to try the house special here.’

Bozer grinned back at her.

‘It’ll knock your socks off.’

She smiled a little wider.

‘I’m sure it will.’

Bozer stood there for a moment, until Leanna, holding half the sandwich, raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Oh, uh…yeah, I gotta get back to the kitchen. Have fun at Court?’ He winced a little internally. Why did his brain shut down around super-hot, super-awesome, badass women? ‘Uh…you know, have a good day there and all.’

Leanna nodded, her smile shifting a little into something that seemed fonder, a touch softer.

‘I will.’

* * *

Late that night, as the restaurant was closing, service over, Bozer walked towards Leanna’s offices, having heard on the grapevine that Court had run very late.

Doubtlessly, she would be finishing up the paperwork that her day at Court had generated.

He was carrying a plate with another one of his house special sandwiches on it, and had his frying pan attached to his belt, because they had to be served warm and freshly toasted, and he was doing this right.

He was almost at Leanna’s offices when he heard a woman scream, then a man yell.

Coming from the direction of Leanna’s offices.

Without even thinking about it, Bozer ran.

Just outside her office, Leanna was trying to fight off a big, bald man who looked very, very angry. Said big, bald man had a large sword, and was currently in the process of pinning Leanna to the wall as she struggled to stab him with a dagger. She’d obviously gotten a hit on him earlier, because he was bleeding from a gash to the arm.

Leanna’s eyes widened when she saw Bozer behind the man. Then, thinking quickly, she called out as the man raised his sword to her throat, gesturing behind her with a slight motion of her head.

‘Hey, baldy! Look!’

The man turned his head and scoffed.

‘Your suitor?’

Bozer tossed the plate, sandwich and all, at the bald man, before grabbing his frying pan, and moving quickly and taking advantage of the fact that Leanna had kicked the man away, hard, while he was unbalanced and distracted by the thrown food and plate, clocking him hard with the frying pan.

He staggered wildly, barely conscious, and Leanna took advantage of that to punch him in the jaw. Hard.

The man slumped unconscious to the ground.

They stared at each other for a long moment, both breathing hard.

‘Did you hit him because he called me your suitor?’

* * *

A week after Midsummer, there was a knock on Riley’s door late at night, as she sat at her kitchen table drinking a mug of calming tea after a long day at the restaurant.

She opened the door, to reveal Billy, looking a little travel-stained and weary, but grinning at her.

‘Hey, lady.’

She smiled back at him.

‘Hi, Billy.’ She gestured in his direction. ‘You just got back?’

He’d left two days after Midsummer to chase a bounty.

He nodded.

‘Dropped him off at the Guardhouse, paid a visit to my Mama, and then came to see you.’ Her smile widened a little, and Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace, made of silver beads. ‘I saw this in Chicago; made me think of you.’

It was elegant and cool and a little edgy, most closely resembling a string of perfectly spherical pearls made of metal.

He placed it in her hand, and Riley ran her fingers over the necklace, the metal warm from being in Billy’s inside coat pocket, feeling a little bit like a Princess or a Lady in a fairytale, being courted by a handsome, charming Prince, not that she would ever admit that out-loud.

‘Thanks.’

On an impulse, she leaned over a little (since he was standing on the steps, and she inside, they were about the same height) and kissed him, just because she wanted to.

When they broke apart, Billy grinned at her.

‘Lady, you just made my day.’

* * *

‘Come on, guys! Don’t you wanna know what they’re up to?’

In his and Mac’s living room, Bozer attempted to rally his troops.

Leanna, Riley, Beth, Jill and Jessie Colton were having a girls’ day in the castle.

Surely they wanted to know what the ladies were doing?

Mac looked up from where he was sewing up a rent in the cushion of Hope’s bed.

‘I admit I’m curious, Boze, but I’d prefer to stay on my future wife’s good side.’

Alex Lucas, who was solving the Rubik’s cube he carried everywhere with him without looking while munching on peanuts, nodded in agreement.

(Mac had had to resign from the Order of Engineers when he and Beth became betrothed, since he was going to become the future Lord Lafayette. Though, like Lord Michael, the Engineers had made it clear that he’d still be considered one of them.)

(As a result, Alex had gotten Mac’s old job, and was very happy about that turn of events, as was Jill.)

‘Yeah, me too.’

Mac, Bozer and Billy all looked at him, a clear question on their faces. Alex pulled out a necklace from his Engineer’s coat, gold with a love knot, a Rubik’s cube and a clipboard like the one Jill carried nearly everywhere with her dangling from it.

Billy smiled and tipped his hat in congratulations to the Engineer, while Bozer grinned and headed to the kitchen to modify his plans for lunch (this called for a celebratory meal!), and Mac reached out and clapped Alex on the shoulder.

‘Congratulations.’

Bozer came back a few minutes later, having made the necessary changes, and pointed at Billy, who was sharpening one of his many weapons, all normally hidden in his coat.

‘Alright, they got excuses, what’s yours, man?’

Billy just raised an eyebrow.

‘I don’t wanna piss off Riley, my sister _and_ my mama.’ His expression grew somehow wry and fond at the same time. ‘I like being alive.’

* * *

‘…everyone has heard the story.’

‘Twice.’

‘But it doesn’t stop him from telling it.’

‘And it gets more and more exaggerated every time.’

Riley and Leanna exchanged a long-suffering, exasperated, yet also affectionate look as they relayed the story of how Bozer continually told the story of how he and Leanna had kicked the bald guy’s ass.

(It was mostly for Jessie’s and Jill’s benefit. Beth had heard the story the prerequisite two times already.)

The Healer offered Riley and Leanna a plate of fruit tarts, while Jessie finished mixing cordial and liquor together to her satisfaction and handed out the drinks. Then, Beth took a tart herself and offered the plate to Jill, the two women exchanging a look that was rather similar to Riley and Leanna’s.

‘Three days ago, Mac roped my dad and Alex into helping him with his sixty-first attempt at a self-pulling plough.’

Riley raised an eyebrow.

‘He’s on to the _sixty-first_?’

Beth just nodded, the smile on her face oddly impressed and proud and soft and affectionate. Jessie and Leanna, who weren’t quite so used to Mac and his ways, gave a snort and choked a little on their drinks respectively.

Jill picked up the story, the smile on her face part-wry, part-fondly exasperated and part-excited and eager, gesturing in Beth’s direction.

‘And now we’re all working on the sixty-second.’

(By _we_ , she meant Mac, Alex, Michael, Caitlyn, Beth and herself.)

The other three women took a moment to parse that, then Riley spoke up.

‘The sixty-first attempt is why Alex has no eyebrows, Mac had to get a haircut and Mom got an order for a new shirt for Lord Michael, isn’t it?’

* * *

‘…seriously, Boze, the kitchen can handle a night without you.’

Bozer’s assistant cooks all nodded in agreement with Riley.

Bozer, who was wearing one of his nicest tunics and carrying a picnic basket containing a romantic picnic dinner (all hand-made with love by him and him alone) for him to share with Leanna, hesitated (Leanna was _his_ baby, but the restaurant was his _baby)_ , and Riley raised an eyebrow and grabbed him by the sleeve to pull him out of the restaurant.

‘…don’t forget to baste the chickens every fifteen minutes! And watch the pastrami cooker, you know how it tends to catch fire! And remember to put the paprika in the stew, Walter!’

* * *

A week later, Bozer crossed his arms stubbornly after ‘confiscating’ Riley’s order notepad before the dinner rush.

‘Riley, you’re super-awesome and the best restaurant manager I’ve ever had…’ She quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘…well, you’re the only restaurant manager I’ve ever had, but seriously, you’re awesome. But we can manage without you for the night!’ The other front-of-house staff, from Riley’s assistant manager, a highly capable, tough-skinned and hard-working girl called Abina who was just eighteen and had travelled from the Southern Kingdom leading a caravan of orphans to make a better life for themselves, to the busboy Tommy, Jack’s neighbour’s teenage son who’d (briefly) stolen all of Jack’s stuff while he was at Diane’s, all nodded in agreement. ‘Go spend some time with Billy; you guys haven’t seen each other for a fortnight.’

Billy had been away chasing a big bounty.

Riley took off her server’s apron, and handed it off to Abina, who held out a hand for it.

‘Make sure everyone gets paid tonight.’

It was pay-day.

Abina nodded, seriously and seemingly much older than her eighteen years.

‘I will. You can count on me.’ Then, she grinned teasingly in a way that made her look every inch eighteen. ‘Now, go canoodle with your man!’

Riley arched her eyebrow at Abina, who just grinned back, utterly unrepentant. Riley gave a little head-shake with a smile, and headed out the door.

(Abina had reminded her a little – honestly, more than a little – of herself when she’d come to the restaurant door six months ago, looking for work. Ever since then, Riley had taken it upon herself to mentor the girl as best as she could, and they’d become good friends.)

(She wanted nothing more than to make sure that Abina’s life, and the lives of the other kids that she felt strongly responsible for, would not be as hard and serious as hers was, when she was their age, so that they’d get a chance to laugh and tease the way that Abina just had far more often than she had.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew…a lot happened in that chapter! Abina was never supposed to be in this; she just wrote herself in…I’m losing control of my own fanfic! :P 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Want me to kill him? Beat him up? Drive him out of town? Have a warrant issued for his arrest?’


	22. Chapter 22

In the middle of their staff meal (held in the two-hour break they had between 3 and 5 pm, after lunch but before dinner, when the restaurant closed – Bozer had wanted to call it ‘linner’ or ‘dunch’ but Riley had vetoed those suggestions), there was a knock on the closed front door, and a young male voice called out.

‘I have a message for Miss Davis!’

Riley got up from her seat and went to answer the door, taking the note from the boy and thanking him, looking a little concerned.

Abina and Bozer exchanged an equally concerned glance.

(It was a little odd to get a note in the middle of the work day, and most of the reasons they could come up with were not-so-good.)

The look that went across her face as she read the note was hard to read, and gone so quickly, pulled back behind Riley’s walls, that even Bozer couldn’t get a good read on it.

Riley hung up her server’s apron, and turned to leave.

‘I’ll be back for dinner service.’

Bozer and Abina exchanged another concerned glance.

Both of them really wanted to follow, but Abina and Riley were birds of a feather and understood each other easily, while Bozer knew that Riley still had some walls up, still kept some things to herself and close to her chest, and he was well aware that she was fiercely independent.

She’d want to deal with whatever this was on her own first.

* * *

Riley strode into the busy park, keeping an eye out for anything that looked like it might be a trap.

She was probably being paranoid, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She took a seat at an empty picnic table, and waited.

It wasn’t long before a grey-haired, blue-eyed man came up to her.

He looked older than she remembered. Then again, it’d been a few years.

He smiled, a little sadly, a little hesitantly.

‘Hi, kiddo.’

‘Hi, Elwood.’

The smile grew a little sadder as he sat down.

‘Guess I have to work my way back up to Dad, huh?’

Riley crossed her arms.

‘Let’s see how it goes.’

‘A lot warmer than I expected, huh? You know, this, uh, this time of year.’

Riley shrugged noncommittally at her father’s attempts to make conversation.

‘Is it?’

He seemed to droop a little, but didn’t give up.

‘Knock, knock?’

That finally got a reaction out of her, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

‘Seriously?’

He smiled, in a way that reminded her of when she was very young, during one of those good times. One of those good times that’d become increasingly rare the older she got.

‘This is a good one. Come on.’

Riley rolled her eyes as if to say, _fine._

‘Who’s there?’

‘Cash.’

‘Cash who?’

‘No thanks, I’ll have some peanuts.’

She gave a half-snort and crossed her arms again.

‘Funny.’

Not.

Her father gestured at her with both hands.

‘Come on, you always used to laugh at those jokes!’

Riley snorted again.

‘When I was _eight_.’

‘You’re never too old for a good knock-knock joke.’

That reminded her of Jack.

Which hit a little too close to home, got her thinking about how this was probably not a good idea and made her wonder why in the hell she was doing this anyway, when she had a perfectly good (far more than good) father-figure in her life, who would freak out as soon as he heard that Elwood Davis was around.

So, Riley cut to the chase, pinned her father with a look.

‘I’m not interested in talking about the weather or hearing a lame joke, alright? Let’s just cut to the chase.’

‘What chase? What do you, uh, think I’m here for, Riley?’

She made a noise of derision.

‘You want to tell me that you’ve been working on yourself, that, that you’ve seen the light, that you realize what a jackass you’ve been my entire life, and now you want to make things right.’ She paused. ‘And that this time…this time will be different from the last time you did this. And the time before that.’

Her father was a conman and a thief. He was also an alcoholic and had a gambling problem.

And he had, drunk out of his mind, needing money for a debt that Diane had refused to give him, beat up her mom, thrown her around.

Heck, drunk as he was, he’d probably have moved on to Riley as his next target, if Jack hadn’t beaten him to a bloody pulp instead.

Over the years, he’d tried to come back into Riley’s life since Jack had left.

But no matter how he swore up and down he’d changed, it’d never stuck.

There was always a new ‘business opportunity’ or he had to skip town to avoid someone whom he owed money or the like or Riley would catch him drunk out of his mind again and tell him to leave.

Elwood just smiled sadly, holding up his hands.

‘How am I doing so far?’

Riley crossed her arms and pinned him with that look again.

‘I really hope you didn’t come all this way just to give me a speech about how worthless a father you’ve been. Trust me, Elwood, that’s old news.’

He held up his hands in supplication.

‘I’m trying to make amends. It’s this program. For the drinking. Has steps.’

Riley considered him for a moment, before responding neutrally.

‘That’s good, I guess.’

He nodded, before looking up at her, with something that she had to call open and earnest and almost _pleading_ on his face and in his voice.

‘So, if you’ve got any chances left to give me, you know, to show you that I’m here to stay…’ He swallowed. ‘But only if you want me to stay.’

Riley considered him for another moment longer, wishing desperately that she had magic and could read minds, like Bozer said The Cage Witch could or like everyone suspected Matty the Spymaster could.

But she only had her instincts, and right now, they were telling her to take a chance.

At least hear him out, or she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

She gave a half-nod.

‘I’m on break until 5.’

Her dad smiled, and started to talk.

* * *

That night, after all the staff had gone home, and they were closing up, Bozer turned to Riley, his expression concerned.

‘Hey, Riley, what’s, uh, what’s up? You know, ever since you got that note, you’ve been kinda...’

He gestured vaguely.

Riley sighed.

She’d been distracted ever since she’d gotten back from talking to her dad. Of course, Bozer would notice.

Elwood claimed that he’d stopped drinking and gambling, and had left his life of cons and thievery behind, too. He was now trying to make an honest living.

The question was, of course, whether to believe him.

Or, more seriously, more accurately, perhaps - whether to believe _in_ him.

As far as Riley could tell, her dad was telling the truth, or mostly the truth.

But whether he could actually change, she didn’t know.

Riley put away the broom she was using to sweep the floor of the dining room.

‘My dad’s back. He’s asking for _another_ chance.’

Bozer was silent for a moment, before speaking.

‘You gonna give it to him?’

Riley sighed.

‘I don’t know, Boze. I honestly don’t know.’

Bozer nodded in understanding and acceptance, and reached out and pulled her into a side-hug. When he let go, he spoke as seriously as he ever did.

‘If there’s anything you need, Riles, just let me know, okay?’ That got a little smile out of her. Bozer might not be able to do _anything_ she needed himself, but if need be, she knew he’d bribe whoever could with food to do it. Then, an _I-have-an-idea_ look appeared on Bozer’s face. He ran into the kitchen, and came back with a tin, which he opened to show a couple of batches of chocolate-chip cookies he’d made for the next day’s lunch service. He held the cookies out to her. ‘You need these more than I need an extra half-hour of sleep.’

Riley smiled a little wider, and took the tin, then bumped her fist to Bozer’s.

‘Thanks.’

He smiled back.

‘What are friends for?’

She smiled a touch even wider at that, before her expression grew serious.

‘Don’t tell Jack. Please.’

Bozer nodded solemnly, like it was a promise.

‘I won’t.’

* * *

The next morning, Riley sat at Billy’s kitchen table as he fried up some eggs and bacon for the two of them.

She knew that he had known something was up as soon as she’d shown up at his place for breakfast before work, but Billy didn’t press. He patiently waited for her to say something, for it to burst out of her.

As he put a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of her, Riley cracked.

‘My dad’s back.’

Billy pulled up a chair next to hers, sitting backwards on it.

‘Want me to kill him? Beat him up? Drive him out of town? Have a warrant issued for his arrest?’

Riley looked incredulously at him, and Billy gave an easy shrug.

‘I got contacts, and some favours I can call in.’ He got up, and stood behind her, then started massaging her shoulders. ‘Gods, lady, you got a lot of tension in there…’ His hands kept moving as he ducked his head down and around so she could sort-of see his face. ‘Want me to go and give him a little lecture on how awesome a woman his daughter is, make it clear to him what’ll happen if he don’t treat her right?’ Billy gave a wry little smirk. ‘Or do you just want me to keep doing what I’m doing?’

‘ _Definitely_ that.’ Riley paused, her voice growing more serious. ‘Rain-check on everything else.’

If her dad hadn’t changed, his true colours would show themselves sooner rather than later. For now, she was inclined to stick with her gut instinct, which was to give him one last chance, naïve though it seemed. She’d regret it forever if she didn’t, but she was going to keep her eyes wide open.

Billy nodded.

‘Whatever the lady wants.’

Riley smiled, and reached for her knife and fork.

* * *

Later that day, in one of the seamstress’s rooms in the castle, with the beginnings of a dress of rich blue silk on a dress form, Riley told her mother the news over lunch.

A myriad of emotions flickered across Diane Davis’ eyes. Anger. Worry. Fear.

Riley reached out and took her mother’s hand, voicing, for the first time, that gut feeling she’d had after that conversation with Elwood.

‘I…I think he might have really changed this time, Mom.’

If it were anyone else telling her this but her baby girl, Diane would have snorted derisively. Even then, it was still a close thing.

She’d believe it when she saw it, when he started acting like a good man and a good father.

(She’d been lied to and hurt – badly – by Elwood enough times to be more than justifiably wary.)

Still, Riley was a grown woman who could and should and would make her own decisions. She had good judgement, and could take care of herself, and had a lot of people to watch her back.

(There were more people in her family now than just her mother.)

Diane wasn’t going to stand in her baby girl’s way if she decided to give her father another chance, if she chose to build a relationship with her father, a relationship she should always have had and should have been able to take for granted.

So, she just nodded, and leaned forward to kiss the top of Riley’s head. A blessing. Her approval. Her support.

Then, she leaned back again.

‘I’m not meeting with him.’ Riley nodded in understanding, and agreement. Elwood had hurt her mother far more than he’d hurt Riley. ‘Tell him that if he comes to my home or my work, I’ll toss him out.’

Riley gave a little smile at that. Diane had asked Jack to give her self-defence lessons, and she could probably do it now. Then, her expression grew more serious.

‘He hasn’t asked.’

Diane nodded, a sharp little motion, as if to say, _good._ She squeezed her daughter’s hand.

‘Just be careful, Riley.’

Riley nodded.

‘I will.’ She paused. ‘Billy and Bozer know, and they have my back.’

That made Diane smile.

Despite the rocky start to their relationship, Bozer was truly a good friend to her daughter.

And despite his resemblance to Riley’s previous suitors who were revealed to be assholes, with the bad-boy black leather jacket and the cocky air, Billy Colton was a good man and a gentleman. Mama Colton, Diane knew, would never raise a son who wasn’t.

Yes, her daughter really did have much better taste in men than her.

Or, Diane thought, half-wry, half-fond, perhaps her taste in men had simply matured faster than Diane’s own.

After all, her current paramour was the very best of men.

…who was going to become a veritable bear as soon as he found out about Elwood.

Diane resolved to ensure that Jack was kept busy for the next couple of days, until Riley was ready to tell him.

* * *

Two days later, Riley slipped into a seat at the picnic table in the park again, opposite her waiting father.

He smiled at her, hopefully.

‘I’m glad you decided to meet with me again. I-‘

She held up a hand.

‘Me first.’ Elwood sighed. ‘The thing is, you haven’t been my father for a very long time.’ Sadly, regretfully, he nodded. ‘And there’s someone in my life now who fills that role better than you ever did. Better than you ever could.’

There was no contest between Jack and Elwood. None at all.

Elwood nodding in acceptance.

‘I hope you know how happy I am you found that person. Just sad that it wasn’t me.’

Riley nodded.

‘You’re saying all the right things, but I need you to understand, you can’t get back what you threw away years ago. And you can’t take the place of anyone in my life.’

He looked her straight in the eye, that open, earnest, almost-pleading look back again.

‘I’m not here to hurt you, Riley, or to change your relationships with anybody else. I just want to be a part of your world. A small part. Any part. Whatever you’re comfortable with.’

She studied him for a long moment, then smiled.

‘Knock, knock.’

He gave a little chuckle.

‘Really?’

‘Hey, you’re not the only one who can tell a bad joke...’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Elwood’s back! There’s a bit of an Easter egg in this chapter for a later one too; anyone got a guess? 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘You always say that blood isn’t the same as family. You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had. If she needs a dad, you know who she’ll come to.’


	23. Chapter 23

‘…It’s…it’s my dad. Elwood, he’s…he’s back.’

Riley sat opposite Jack in hers and Bozer’s restaurant, before it opened for the day, both with those discs of cheese-covered flatbread with tomato-based sauce and additional toppings (Jack’s was all assorted preserved meats, while Riley had some mushrooms on hers too) that Bozer had invented and named ‘pizza’ in front of them.

Jack, at least, was doing an admirable job of not freaking out, like Riley had asked him to do. He just made a noncommittal sound, so she continued.

‘He wants a second chance.’

‘Oh.’ And then, it started. ‘Don’t you mean another second chance?’ Jack scoffed. ‘And another, and another.’ He gestured with a little too much force and vehemence. ‘How many times is that now, Riley, huh? You want me to tell you?’

Well, by Jack Dalton standards, this wasn’t freaking out.

‘Oh, you don’t have to tell me, Jack. Trust me, it was my childhood, remember?’

Jack sighed.

‘So that’s why you’ve been acting weird the last couple days?’ He paused, realization dawning on him. ‘And your mom’s been keeping me-‘

Riley nodded, feeling a touch guilty, in response to his question, before cutting Jack off before he could continue, making a face briefly.

(There were things you did _not_ want to think about your mom and surrogate father doing.)

‘That’s why.’ She held up her hands. ‘I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to get all worked up before I figured out what I wanted to do, you know?’

After a beat, Jack nodded, and looked her in the eye, serious and earnest.

‘And what _do_ you want to do?’

Riley lifted a shoulder, picking up a piece of pizza and staring at it, before putting it back down again.

‘I spent some time with him. He seems different.’

‘Hmm.’

That was a suspicious sound.

‘More different than the other times he said he was different.’ She looked down at her pizza again, then back up at Jack. ‘I want to give him a second chance.’

Jack was silent and still for just a moment, before he scooted his chair over and put an arm around her for a side-hug.

‘Well, I think that’s awesome.’ He sounded like he meant that wholeheartedly. ‘He’s your old man, you should. And you ain’t got but one.’

Riley smiled, returning the side-hug.

‘Yeah.’

Jack let go of her, returning to his seat, before pointing very seriously at her.

‘But, just remember that…that I’m here for you, whatever you need, you know?’

Riley nodded, her expression serious, but tinged with a touch of something wry.

‘I’m so glad you told me that, Jack, because what I need you to do is stay out of it.’ She pinned him with a look. ‘Okay?’ He made a noncommittal sound again. ‘I’m not a little kid anymore.’ She held up her hands. ‘I can handle Elwood on my own.’

Jack waved a hand.

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. Not a problem, not my business, I got it. This time around, good ol’ Jack’s just a spectator.’

* * *

Jack knocked loudly on the door of the room at a cheap inn, making sure that the dagger on his belt was clearly visible.

The door opened to reveal Elwood Davis, and the two men stared at each other for a beat.

‘Jack. Long time.’

The Knight snorted.

‘Yeah, not long enough, Elwood.’

Elwood looked like he’d expected something like that, lifting a shoulder, looking away, before he looked directly at Jack again.

‘I’ve been hoping to see you for a long time so I could say something right to your face.’ Jack’s every reflex went on alert. ‘Thanks.’

Jack looked incredulous, and let out a disbelieving chuckle.

‘For what?’

‘For what you did last time I saw you. You kicked my ass.’ Jack made a noise and a face that seemed to say, _you bet I did._ ‘You gave me the wake-up call I needed. I was a terrible husband and father.’ Elwood sighed. ‘I was a bad guy all round.’ He gestured at Jack. ‘Till you, uh, till you got through to me.’

Jack crossed his arms suspiciously.

‘That was years ago. Elwood, if everything’s changed, what took you so long to reach out to her?’

Sure, Riley and Diane had moved, but it wouldn’t take seventeen years to find them.

Elwood just raised his hands in supplication.

‘I didn’t want to come back until I was sure I wouldn’t let her down again.’

Jack eyed him for a beat. He sounded like he was telling the truth, but Elwood Davis was a master conman, and Jack really didn’t want to trust him further than he could throw him.

He pinned the man with his best intimidating stare.

‘Look, Elwood, there’s so much I want to say to you, man, but I’ll keep it simple.’ Riley had asked him to stay out of it, after all. ‘If you hurt Riley again, in any way, the next time you see me, I’ll be giving you a lot more than a wake-up call.’

His hand went to the hilt of his dagger in a clear gesture.

Elwood, to his credit, held Jack’s gaze and just nodded in acceptance.

* * *

That evening, Mac and Jack sparred in the training grounds, something they hadn’t done for a while, but had both sorely missed.

After the third time Mac disarmed Jack, he collapsed his quarterstaff and attached it to his belt, crossing his arms.

‘What’s wrong, Jack?’ Jack looked like he was going to protest, but Mac rolled his eyes and cut him off, gesturing with a hand to where Jack’s broadsword lay in the dirt. ‘You’re obviously distracted.’

Jack sighed.

‘Riley’s dad is in town.’

Mac looked surprised at that. He had managed to avoid overhearing Riley, or Bozer, or Diane, or Jack, or observing any of their collective behaviour and interactions which would have allowed him to infer that as the likely explanation.

(Mac had been really busy lately.)

(Lord Michael and Lady Caitlyn were in Washington City working on tax reform with King Ethan. Andi had gone with them, as had Lord Michael’s Secretary.)

(That meant that Mac and Beth were running Lafayette, with the aid of Jill and a couple of other advisers.)

(At the same time, they were also planning the Wedding of the Year – hero of the Kingdom marrying a Lady much beloved by the common people and all – as well as planning for their life together.)

(Jack hadn’t listened to the details much, but the second bit seemed to involve setting up two adjoining studies in what would become their wing of the castle, moving a large number of Beth’s books and ordering more furniture.)

‘Is he back in the picture?’

Jack shrugged.

‘That’s up to her. She asked me to stay out of it.’

Mac raised a very sceptical eyebrow.

‘How long did you last before you were at his front doorstep accosting him?’

 Jack grinned a little sheepishly.

‘About thirty minutes.’ He chuckled. ‘Would have taken fifteen, but had to finish Boze’s pizza first.’

Mac shook his head with a smile.

‘Well, you are nothing if not consistent.’ His expression grew more serious. ‘How did that go?’

Jack shrugged helplessly.

‘Honestly? I don’t know, man. It…it was weird.’ He snorted. ‘You know, he actually thanked me for tuning him up all those years ago?’

Mac looked rather incredulous, like something _did not compute._

‘He was _glad_ you beat him up?’

Jack gave a little chuckle, and nodded, gesturing with his hands as if to say, _yeah, I don’t believe it either, brother._

‘Yeah, yeah, that’s what he said. Must’ve hit him a lot harder than I remember, or something.’

Mac shook his head, before looking up at Jack.

‘I’m guessing Riley doesn’t know about this visit?’

‘Oh, hell, no.’ Jack actually looked a little frightened. ‘No, she would murder me and feed me to Hope.’

Mac raised an eyebrow at that.

‘Hope wouldn’t eat you.’

Jack pointed very seriously at the blonde.

‘She would train her to do it just for this.’

Mac just nodded slowly, as if to say, _right…_. Then, his expression grew more serious again.

‘What about your whole _I hate secrets_ thing?’

Jack shrugged.

‘What about it? I do hate secrets, when I’m not in them.’

Mac shook his head again, a little smile on his face, and asked the big-money question.

‘Do you think her dad’s changed?’

Jack sighed. What he wouldn’t give to know for sure.

‘Well, he better hope so, for his sake.’ The threat in there was clear. ‘But in my experience, leopards don’t change their stripes.’

Mac made a bit of a face at that, and launched into one of his Mr Pedantic rants.

‘It’s tigers that have stripes; leopards have spots. The saying would either be, tigers don’t change their stripes, or leopards don’t change their spots.’

Jack grinned in a way that was almost a smirk.

‘I know that.’ His grin widened. ‘I’m just getting you riled up. Relaxes me!’

* * *

Later, when they were done sparring and were cleaning up a little before heading to Mac and Bozer’s for dinner, Mac reached out and clasped Jack’s shoulder, his expression earnest and heartfelt in that way it always was before he said something that was cheesy and corny but utterly, totally _meant._

‘Riley’s a grown woman who can look after herself, Jack, but we’re watching her back, all of us, and we’re here for her, always.’

There was a bit of guilt in there, that he’d gotten so caught up in his own life and his own future that he’d missed something so important and earth-shaking in a good friend’s life.

Jack just gave a little smile.

‘Exactly what I told her, son.’ Something a little uncertain or even insecure appeared in his voice. ‘Just hope she remembers that.’

Jack had done everything he could to be the guy Riley came to for help when she was young. Now, he had to admit that he was a little scared that she wouldn’t come to him, even if he knew she trusted him more now than she ever had before.

Mac smiled reassuringly, and squeezed Jack’s shoulder again.

‘You always say that blood isn’t the same as family. You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had. If she needs a dad, you know who she’ll come to.’

Mac could say that with authority and experience.

Jack had served as a father-figure for him for years, and still was, in all honesty, the closest thing to a father that had.

(Michael acted as a mentor to him, and treated him like his own son, but respected the special place that Jack held in Mac’s heart and life and never sought to take that place for himself.)

(And his and his dad’s relationship…well, that was still in the process of being rebuilt.)

(They’d last seen each other in-person when Mac had been in the capital for the ball the King had thrown, and had managed to have lunch together a couple of times in that period.)

(There was actually kind-of a significance to having lunch together. After they’d been reunited, Mac had ignored his father for three whole months, which to this day, he couldn’t bring himself to completely regret. After that, his dad had invited him to lunch every single Friday at the tavern Mac had loved as a kid. It’d taken weeks of nudging by Jack and Bozer to get him to even go, since Mac had struggled to let go of that anger he’d felt towards the man. Then, that lunch date had never become regular, due to their work and Mac’s continual struggle to let go of the last vestiges of that anger, even though they’d agreed to a clean slate and starting over. Thus, they’d only had a couple of lunches together before Mac had gone off on that quest to stop Murdoc.)

(They were also writing to one another, had been for a little over a year now, since the previous year’s Midsummer.)

(They were making progress, but when he needed a father-figure, Mac would go to the one who’d proven himself, time and time again, to be a _real_ dad, one he could count on to be there for him, always.)

(That is, Jack.)

Jack smiled at that, that insecurity fading, and reached out to clasp Mac’s shoulder in return.

‘Thanks, son.’ Then, his expression grew lighter. ‘How’s the wedding planning going?’

Mac shook his head.

‘We wish we could elope. Or at least have a simple wedding with just our families. We spent an hour arguing with the baker about having wedding pies instead of a wedding cake.’ Jack raised his eyebrows, and Mac shrugged, smiling. ‘Beth firmly believes that pie is a superior dessert to cake.’ The smile grew fonder. ‘Actually, she firmly believes that it is _the_ superior dessert.’

Jack gave a snort.

‘She’s got you real good, man.’

Mac nodded, still smiling.

‘Oh, I know. I don’t mind at all.’ From the besotted look, Jack was pretty sure that it was a lot more positive than _not minding_. Mac’s expression turned wry. ‘Besides, pot, kettle, black. Don’t you have throws and cushions and potpourri in your house now?’

‘Who doesn’t like potpourri?’ After a moment, Mac nodded in agreement with that. ‘What did you ‘bout the baker?’

Mac shrugged.

‘Fired him, asked Sidney’s sister to do it instead.’

‘Advantage of marrying rich and influential, eh?’

It wouldn’t matter if they pissed off a baker, or lost the deposit, after all.

‘We should have started with her, but the original baker was the traditional one who did her parents’ wedding, and all the Kastrati weddings and the like, so we were obligated to ask him, apparently.’

‘Every coin’s got a flip side.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like my adaptation of Jack’s reaction to finding out about Elwood, and the little touches about Mac and Beth’s wedding! One thing I did wish for in canon was a little bit more conversation between Mac and Jack about Elwood’s return, though to be honest, they were kinda busy with preventing a terrorist attack at the time…
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘…the fishmonger on Main St should have oysters…’


	24. Chapter 24

 Two nights later, Riley and Elwood were having dinner at the restaurant after closing, sitting at a table next to the front window and making slightly-awkward conversation, when a man wearing a hooded cloak, face obscured, stormed inside, waving a very sharp-looking dagger around.

Riley hardly had time to grab the cheeseboard (flinging its contents everywhere) before there was a loud shout and the man, who’d been advancing menacingly towards Elwood, was tackled to the ground by a second hooded figure sprinting through the front door.

‘Yippee kay yay!’

Seconds later, the first hooded man was disarmed and unconscious, and the second hooded figure had pushed to hood back to reveal his identity (not that neither Riley nor Elwood needed to see his face to know who he was).

Riley looked from Jack to Elwood, with her arms crossed. They watched as anger flickered across her face, before she looked resigned.

She addressed Jack first, eyebrow quirked, her voice a little infuriated and frustrated, but not altogether devoid of affection either (exasperated affection, but still).

‘What happened to your name being Jack Boundaries Dalton?’

Jack had the good grace to look sheepish, before he gestured at the unconscious man on the floor.

‘Right place, right time, right, Riles?’

Riley’s eyebrow quirked a little higher, and she sighed, before turning to her biological father.

This time, her voice reflected more anger, hurt, even betrayal.

‘Who is he?’

Elwood sighed.

‘He works for Dougie Luccano. Guy’s from the Bronx.’ That was a town in the province of New York, on the other side of the country. ‘He lives about two hours up north now.’

Jack crossed his arms.

‘Why’s he after you?’

Elwood sighed again, glancing over at Riley, who was watching the whole scene silently, arms crossed, clearly _not_ happy.

‘Let’s just say, uh, we’ve done some business.’

Jack’s expression grew more set, and he took a step closer to Elwood.

‘Business. What, building orphanages? Helping the homeless?’

Elwood sighed yet again.

‘He’s a small-time crook, Jack. We pulled off a couple of cons.’

Elwood was now avoiding his daughter’s eyes.

Jack snorted derisively.

‘Yeah? And which one of these cons has Dougie mad enough to put a hole in your ass right now?’

Elwood flopped down into his chair.

‘About a year ago, we cheated some jeweller out of a necklace. With diamonds, and pearls, and opals.’ Riley, making a very educated guess at where this was going, just shot her father a look full of anger and betrayal. Jack noticed that that made Elwood droop a little. ‘It was worth about, I don’t know, seventy-five grand.’ That was a lot of money. ‘We were gonna sell it, pocket half each.’ Elwood looked up at his daughter again. ‘On the way home that night, that’s when it hit me. If I was gonna ever reconnect with you, then I had to change. Not in a month or a week or even an hour. I had to change right then.’ Riley snorted and rolled her eyes, though Jack was sure she softened, just a tiny bit, though he didn’t think Elwood could tell. ‘So, I, uh, took the necklace and I tossed it in the Hudson.’ That was the major river that ran through New York. ‘Ran straight to my first AA meeting and I’ve been sober ever since.’

He looked pleadingly at Riley, almost begging her to believe him.

She, to his eyes, looked utterly unmoved.

Jack knew differently. A little part of Riley (honestly, more than a little part) wanted to believe her dad, and that part was making a lot of noise.

As usual, Jack decided to break the tension in the best way he had.

‘You know, you can go to your first AA meeting without being so dramatic.’

That made Elwood look over at him.

‘It was a big, life-changing moment for me, Jack.’ He lifted a shoulder. ‘Got a little, you know, carried away.’

Jack looked a little incredulously at him for a beat, before waving a hand, getting back to the important bit.’

‘Whatever.’ He gestured to the now-weakly-stirring man on the floor. ‘So you owe this guy’s boss a $75,000 necklace that you don’t even have?’

Elwood just nodded, and then looked imploringly at Riley again.

‘I swear, I didn’t come looking for money.’

She stared at him for a long moment, before crouching down and cuffing their would-be attacker’s hands together with his own belt.

‘We’ve got a bigger problem to deal with.’

* * *

The next morning, Jack and Elwood left bright and early, two hours before dawn.

Elwood yawned as he got into the cart that Jack had hired for the occasion.

‘Did we really have to leave so early, Jack?’

Jack just pointed at the back of the cart, where there were a heap of cabbages under some sack cloth.

‘You ain’t riding up front and risk getting spotted on the way there. You’re riding right back there.’

‘Come on! That the real reason?’

Jack snorted.

‘Among the many reasons, Elwood.’ Jack pulled his hood up further. They had to get going as soon as possible if they didn’t want Riley insisting on tagging along, which was just about one of the few things they could agree easily on. ‘Get in there.’

‘I’m going!’

* * *

‘You mind if I tell you something, Jack?’

Jack didn’t even look back as he drove the cart.

‘I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna talk unless spoken to.’

Elwood ignored him.

‘I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that Riley has you in her life.’

Jack snorted.

‘Oh, yeah, and we both have you to thank for that, don’t we?’

Elwood sighed.

‘Look, I knew the day I met you, you were gonna be the one to, uh, take over as her father-figure.’

Jack shook his head.

‘Come on, Elwood! You didn’t lose her in one day, man. You lost her little by little over the course of years due to your actions, man. Not your words, your actions. They’re what made clear to her she’s not the most important thing to you in your life.’

‘That’s not very nice, Jack.’

He snorted again.

‘Yeah, well, I’ll be happy to point out what a moron you are, Elwood. Any time.’

* * *

Jack and Elwood stood outside the house on the outskirts of a medium-sized town, facing the bald, scarred man who lived in it.

He smiled unpleasantly at Elwood, inclining his head slightly.

‘Elwood.’

‘Dougie. Long time.’

‘Where the hell have you been hiding? Must’ve searched every gambling den in the country looking for you.’ Dougie glanced at Jack. ‘Hundred bucks work for you, slick? Finder’s fee for bringing this degenerate to me.’

Jack put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘I didn’t bring him to you. He’s here with me. I’m here to tell you to back off, or you’re gonna have a serious problem.’ He paused. ‘You understand me?’

Dougie just smiled, and Jack cursed himself internally. His guard should have been higher, but he was admittedly distracted.

‘That sounds a little like a threat.’

‘You got good ears.’

Dougie’s men, a whole dozen, all armed, slipped out from behind the trees. An archer appeared from behind the chimney stack on the roof.

Dougie smirked.

‘Still feeling tough?’

Jack swallowed, cursing himself even harder.

‘Not as much, no.’

The smirk on Dougie’s face twisted a little.

‘Good. Because there’s no need for violence as long as Woody here…’ He gestured at Elwood. ‘…coughs up the seventy-five grand he owes me.’

‘Seventy-five?’ Elwood flung his hands up in protest. ‘Come on, Dougie. You know I only owe you half.’

‘Half was a year ago. Now it’s the full amount. Unless you have the necklace.’

Jack shot Elwood a _look._ The hopefully-reformed conman shook his head.

‘Not presently, no.’

Dougie took a few steps forward, drew a dagger and placed it at Elwood’s throat.

‘I get the necklace, or I get the money. And if I don’t get neither, well, you have a daughter, right? Riley? Maybe she’s good for the money.’ Both Elwood and Jack’s eyes burned with anger at the implicit threat. Dougie smiled. ‘The necklace or the money by tomorrow.’

* * *

When Jack and Elwood returned to Lafayette Town, a furious Riley was waiting for the two of them at the gates.

Jack and Elwood exchanged a look with a surprising amount of camaraderie in it, and got out of the cart to face Riley.

‘ _Of course_ you two had to sneak off without me.’ She snorted, shaking her head. ‘I never thought I’d see the day you two would be in the same space together, let alone work together.’ She eyed them both. ‘I’m guessing Dougie didn’t take the threat all that well?’

Jack and Elwood shook their heads, the latter speaking.

‘He’s gonna kill me if I don’t give him the money or the necklace.’

He and Jack had agreed that they were not mentioning Dougie’s threat to Riley, and they would never, ever let it come to pass, no matter what.

Riley sighed, rolled her eyes, and muttered something along the lines of _and that’s why you two idiots shouldn’t have snuck off on your own_ , before addressing the two of them properly.

‘How can I help?’

* * *

Forty minutes later, Jack and Riley left Elwood outside the castle (he refused to come in, and honestly, it was probably a good idea to leave the potentially-reformed thief outside anyway), and walked towards the private wing that was going to be Mac and Beth’s home in five weeks.

They reached the lower level (there were two; the upper one had what was currently Beth’s bedchambers, and the three empty ones that were meant for future children), and knocked on the door of the study on the right.

The door was opened by Mac, who looked a little bit manic, like he did when he was deep in an idea. Over by a large blackboard, his fiancée was staring at a bunch of very complicated-looking mathematical equations, brow furrowed and lost in thought, sitting on the edge of the table in the middle.

(The study on the right was Mac’s, Jack idly noted. The last time he’d seen it, it’d had a heap of bookshelves, half-filled with books and the blackboard, but not much else. Now, it’d acquired a stone table – fireproof – and a leather rug that seemed to be made of the same kind of leather as Mac’s Engineer’s coat – also fireproof. Further evidence was the fact that through the door joining it to the left study, he could make out a rather-feminine-looking powder blue and mint green wall hanging.)

Jack indicated the maths on the blackboard, before looking at the betrothed couple.

‘You two trying to work out how to go back in time or bring back the dead so that Shoe-dinger guy can come to your stag-do, Mac?’

‘ _Schrödinger,_ Jack. And no, it’s the wedding reception seating plan.’

Jack and Riley exchanged a look. Only Mac and Beth would turn to highly complex maths that was making their heads hurt to just look at it to do their wedding seating plans (Riley was pretty sure she understood most of it, but that didn’t mean she _enjoyed_ maths).

Meanwhile, Mac and Beth exchanged a concerned look of their own.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Do you two need help?’

Jack and Riley nodded.

‘Yeah, you could say that…’

‘Do you two know how we can make a fake diamond, pearl, opal and gold necklace so that my dad doesn’t get killed?’

That was the only option. Giving Dougie the money really wasn’t one; Riley and Bozer couldn’t sell the restaurant (even though Riley thought Bozer would probably do it if she asked), and they couldn’t borrow the money from Beth (she would want to lend it to them, but at the same time, they couldn’t risk Dougie realizing that he could coerce money off the Lord and Lady Lafayette).

Mac and Beth exchanged another glance, both of them with their rather-distinctive thinking-faces on.

Then, they both started talking to each other at once.

‘…mother-of-pearl…’

‘…glass…’

‘…I have a translation of the recipe…’

‘…you’ll need to pressure-sinter…’

‘…the fishmonger on Main St should have oysters…’

‘…I’ll go grab the relevant books, and you can melt down that vase.’

Beth gestured with her head towards an admittedly-ugly glass vase sitting in a box of stuff on Mac’s new desk as she hurried over to her study.

He raised an eyebrow as he picked it up.

‘Are you sure?’

Beth’s voice drifted in from the other study.

‘Yes, it was a gift from some very obnoxious merchants passing through ten years ago. They’ve surely forgotten all about it by now.’ Beth walked back in, holding a large stack of books. ‘That’s why it’s in that box; they’re items for you to do your thing to.’ Mac’s thing was often destructive, or rendered objects useless for their intended purpose. Her expression grew half-wry, half-fond. ‘And trust me, there’s plenty more where they came from.’

Mac glanced quickly into the box, noting a dozen doorknobs, a broken set of scales, a hideous marble statue of a horse (at least, he thought it was a horse) and a non-functional clock.

Then, he looked up again, and the look he gave his Lady was definitely besotted, and also had something in it that indicated that this wedding couldn’t come sooner…and reminded Jack that, as Mac’s preferred father-figure, he was going to have to have a really uncomfortable talk with the young man at some point soon, wasn’t he?

(He was well-aware that Mac knew what happened when a man and a woman loved each other very much – Nikki wasn’t shy and had had the ability to turn Mac’s brain to mush so much that he forgot to do things like lock the door – but still. Father-figure’s duty and all.)

Beth’s cheeks flushed a little at that look, and she gestured a touch awkwardly with her head at Jack and Riley, which seemed to snap Mac out of it.

He tucked the vase under his arm and took the stack of books from her, while Beth glanced at the time, and then at Jack and Riley.

‘I’m supposed to have a dress fitting in five minutes, but I can cancel it. I can meet you in the workshop in-‘

Mac shook his head, as Jack and Riley did the same a moment later.

‘We can handle this, Beth.’ He lifted up the books a little. ‘Thanks for your help.’ He leaned over to give her a quick peck, and Beth caught his arm when he pulled away again, stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Mac smiled, but shook his head with confidence. ‘It won’t come to that.’

He said it with an unspoken, _I won’t let it._

Jack and Riley exchanged a glance, able to fill in the blanks. Riley shot Beth a grateful little smile as she, Jack and Mac headed for the workshop, and her friend just smiled back at her, lifting a shoulder.

‘You’re family, both by friendship and the law of transitive property.’

That made Riley smile a little wider.

Gods knew, it wasn’t blood that made family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I briefly considered actually having baseball be a sport in Phoenix and keeping the whole baseball theft thing. I wound up going with the necklace instead, mostly because I had trouble thinking of a good way to age a baseball and forge a signature on it with the technology that I’ve established exists in this universe. 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘He _always_ says that. And I _always_ fall for it.’


	25. Chapter 25

Twenty minutes later, Elwood Davis was sitting at a workbench in the Taylor-MacGyver family workshop, drawing out a detailed picture of the necklace with coloured pencils.

Meanwhile, the rest of the workshop was a hive of activity. Jill was grinding stuff together in a mortar and pestle while studying a heap of what looked like chemistry and maths on a blackboard, while Mac stoked the blacksmith’s forge and collected a whole heap of odd-looking metal tools.

Nate ran in, holding a bag that smelled like oysters, and held them out to Mac.

‘There you go, Mac, uh, sorry, my lord.’ Mac raised an eyebrow at him (he and Beth weren’t married yet), and Nate just grinned unapologetically. ‘I’m practicing!’

Mac shook his head rather fondly, before seemingly remembering something he had to tell Nate.

‘Oh, Beth wanted me to ask you if you’re okay with you, your sister and mom sitting on the same table as Sidney at the wedding.’

Nate’s grin changed into something that was a bit softer, fonder, but also more knowing.

‘Nessa and I really like Sidney. He’s coming over for dinner tonight.’ Jack raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. Then again, the big guy wasn’t super talkative. Nate’s grin grew even more knowing. ‘He has our blessing!’

And with that, the Page took off again. Smiling, Mac got to work scraping out the mother-of-pearl from the oysters.

* * *

A few minutes after that, Mac sent Riley and Jack out to the washerwomen’s domain to pick up a whole list of stuff.

(They weren’t sure if he actually needed these things, or if it was Mac’s attempt to give them some time alone to talk, as he thought they could do with it.)

Well, Riley thought, he wasn’t wrong.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

He looked up from where he was trying to match the words on Mac’s list to the words on the labels on the shelves.

‘For what?’

Riley raised an eyebrow. He knew what for.

‘For helping Elwood.’

Jack stopped rummaging, and turned to face her.

‘You know I’m not doing this for him, right?’

Riley nodded.

‘Yeah, it’s weird. It’s like, I get why you’re doing it, I just don’t get why _I’m_ doing it.’ She plonked herself down on a bench by the wall. ‘I mean, this guy has not made one sacrifice for me. Not one.’ She waved a hand. ‘Then he shows up in my life swearing he’s changed, and the next thing you know, I’m helping him commit jewellery fraud.’ She raised her shoulders. ‘It’s like I’m ten years old all over again.’

‘You helped him commit fraud at ten years old?’ Jack paused. ‘Don’t answer that.’ He walked over and sat down by Riley on the bench. ‘I remember when you were little, you wanted to do everything by yourself. Didn’t want help form anybody, and wanted to make sure we all knew it.’ He smiled. ‘You were a tough little girl. And you’ve become a real badass, Riley. Honestly.’ He reached out and put an arm around her. ‘Even if the biological doesn’t see it, the tiger-bear does.’

Jack made that noise that he insisted was a tiger-bear’s howl-roar.

Riley shook her head with a smile, and leaned a little closer to Jack, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment.

* * *

The next day, Jack and Elwood set off in the cart again for Dougie’s house, with the fake necklace that they, Riley, Mac and Jill had stayed up half the night making, fuelled by coffee and snacks that had been brought in by Beth, Bozer and Billy Colton in shifts.

Dougie looked sceptically at Elwood when he handed him the necklace.

‘So you sat on this thing for an entire year? Why didn’t you sell it, take the money?

Elwood shrugged.

‘I thought about it. I decided to get sober instead.’

Dougie snorted, pocketing the jewellery.

‘Okay. Well, this has been a lot of fun.’

He made to head back into his home. Jack called out.

‘Now that you have your necklace, we’re all good here, right?’

Dougie turned around, pulled the necklace out of his pocket again.

‘With this?’

‘Yeah.’

He smiled in a way that Jack didn’t like. Not at all. He grabbed Elwood by the sleeve as discreetly as he could, starting to tug him away.

‘Awesome. It’s been great doing business with you, Dougie. Come on, Elwood.’

Dougie’s smile grew darker. His men tightened their circle.

‘There’s still the matter of the, uh, interest that Elwood owes me.’

‘Come on, man, it’s a necklace, not a mutual fund!’

Dougie raised an eyebrow.

‘I spent a year tracking this deadbeat down.’ He addressed Elwood. ‘You cost me time and resources. I got a reputation to protect.’ He strode closer again. ‘You want to be square with me? Do ya?’

Elwood swallowed, but nodded.

‘Yeah.’

‘I want another 10 K.’

Elwood shook his head.

‘I don’t got that kind of money.’

Jack leaned closer to him.

‘I might be able to cobble that together-‘

Elwood shook his head.

‘Jack. I’m tired of people handling my problems for me.’ He looked at Dougie. ‘I can pay this the, uh, other way, can’t I, Dougie?’

Dougie laughed.

‘What, you mean a $10,000 beating? That could take a while.’

He laughed again, as Jack held up a hand.

‘Hang on, now, no-one is taking a beating.’

‘Jack.’ Elwood turned and looked very seriously at him. Very, very seriously. Jack stopped his protests. Then, he turned back to Dougie. ‘One more thing, Dougie, when we’re done here, we’re…we’re done, right?’

Dougie nodded in agreement, and they shook on it, before Dougie twisted Elwood’s arm, and kneed him in the stomach, before gesturing to his men to drag him away.

Jack took a half-step forward, like he wanted to intervene, but Elwood just shot him a look that insistently said, _no._

Jack swallowed, Riley’s words from the night before echoing through his mind.

Yeah, Elwood Davis had definitely changed.

* * *

‘Take it easy, big fella, take it easy.’ At 7:30 that night, in the middle of the dinner rush at Bozer and Riley’s restaurant, Jack helped a bleeding, bruised and thoroughly beaten Elwood into his cottage. ‘I’m gonna set you down right over here okay?’ He helped him into the armchair. ‘Here we go, easy.’

Elwood groaned in pain, and did his best to wave a hand nonchalantly.

‘I’ll be fine.’ He groaned again. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You good?’

Jack busied himself lighting the fire and boiling some water in the kettle.

‘Oh, yeah. I just need to sit right here for another one or two…’ He chuckled, then clutched his ribs as that pained him. ‘…months.’ He chuckled and groaned again. Jack wondered if he shouldn’t have let Elwood be so stubborn and dragged him to the Houses of Healing, or to Beth, who was probably at Mac’s. ‘Hey, Jack, do me a favour.’

Jack looked up at him from the fire.

‘Yeah.’

Elwood looked him straight in the eye, asking for understanding.

‘I don’t want Riley to see me like this. So as soon as I can stand, I’m gonna blow out of here for a little bit.’

‘Okay.’

Jack got that. He’d probably want the same.

‘You tell her I’m coming back, you understand?’

Jack nodded seriously.

‘Yep.’

‘Tell her I’m not running again.’

Jack nodded again, and placed the kettle on the fire, before grabbing the medical kit Beth had given him off a shelf.

‘Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it.’ He crouched down in front of Elwood, unrolling the medical kit, before looking up and making eye contact with the man. ‘Hey, Elwood, what you did was admirable. You picked the right thing, not the easy thing.’ Jack smiled. ‘And that’s what an R-E-A-L dad does.’ Elwood let out a breath and gave a little smile too. ‘I’ll make sure Riley knows that.’

His smile widened a little.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

Jack gave a quick salute, then turned to check on the kettle.

‘Just sit tight…’

* * *

That night, just after Bozer and Riley’s restaurant closed, Jack heard a knock on his door.

He glanced at the recently-vacated armchair, sadness in his eyes, then opened the door.

‘Hey, Riley-‘

She looked past Jack, into the cottage, then up into his eyes. There was something plaintive and vulnerable in there, and for a moment, he saw a scared, sad little girl instead of a strong, tough young woman.

‘He’s gone, isn’t he?’

Jack just nodded sadly, leading Riley into his home, to the kitchen table.

‘Yeah, but he’s coming back, Riles. Swore he would.’

Riley snorted, looking down at her clasped hands on the table, as he busied himself making some tea.

He glanced over at Riley as she looked up and down repeatedly, before looking straight ahead and speaking.

She looked like she was being torn in two, as if half of her believed that Elwood had really changed, and half of her was scolding the other half, telling her that there was no reason to believe him this time, not after so many previous betrayals.

‘He _always_  says that.’ Riley snorted. ‘And I  _always_  fall for it.’

The kettle on, Jack just sat down opposite her, so he could put one of his hands over hers, locking eyes with her.

‘Riley, you know how you were saying that he’s never made any sacrifices for you?’ She just nodded. ‘Well, he just did. $10,000 worth.’ Riley’s brow furrowed; she knew he didn’t have that kind of money, and Jack squeezed her hands with his. ‘Paid in blood, Riles.’

Riley’s eyes widened, and Jack recognized the little ways her face changed, her posture changed, when she was fighting not to cry (and succeeding, usually).

‘Is he-‘

He squeezed her hands again, bringing his other hand over to cover hers too.

‘He walked away, Riles.’ Wryness crossed his face for a moment. ‘Mostly. Needed a little help.’ Jack paused, seeing some of that tension and worry leave the young woman, before continuing. ‘Brought him back here, patched him up best as I could and then…’

Riley looked at their hands for a moment.

‘He left.’

There was an awful lot of  _meaning_  and  _hurt_  and  _history_ and  _pain_  and  _hope_  in those two words.

Jack squeezed her hands again.

‘He left ‘cause he didn’t want you to see him like that, Riles. He’s coming back.’ Jack lifted Riley’s hands up a little, off the counter. ‘That wannabe tough guy threatened you when your dad said he couldn’t pay him for the necklace.’ He figured Elwood wouldn’t mind if he broke that promise now. ‘Then, after we got the fake to him, he demanded $10,000 in interest.’ Jack paused, and his voice was a little rough when he continued. ‘He took a $10,000 beating for  _you_ , Riles. He’s coming back. For  _you_.’

Riley lost her battle with those tears, and they started to flow, as Jack leaned uncomfortably over the table to hug her. She clung to him, doubtlessly staining his shirt with tears, but he didn’t care, just rubbing her back and making soothing noises.

* * *

 

Later, after a nightcap of some really good whiskey he’d been saving for a special occasion (a retirement gift from a couple of Knights from his old squad), Riley reached out and punched Jack none-too-gently in the arm.

He yelped and rubbed it, as if it were tender.

‘Ouch, Riles! What was that for?’

She snorted, but there was something lovingly exasperated in her eyes.

‘I’m still mad at you for, you know, breaking your promise to stay out of it, but…’ Her expression softened. ‘Thanks, Jack.’

Jack smiled that soft little smile back at her, and held up his arms.

‘Give the tiger-bear some love, Ri.’

She shook her head again (Jack was ridiculous), but hugged him anyway.

Jack tucked his head over her shoulder and spoke.

‘Riles, any man would be happy and proud to have you as a daughter.’ Jack’s voice was rough with emotion and very, very heartfelt. ‘Heck, I’m prouder than punch to be substitute dad, or dad to 50% of you, or maybe me and Elwood could work out a time-share thing…’

Riley, her head tucked over Jack’s shoulder, shook her head as best as she could, fond exasperation in the gesture yet again, but smiled and hugged him tighter, hoping he’d get the message.

Jack’s smile widened.

He did, loud and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap to Elwood’s storyline! It was a short chapter, but I wanted to keep it ‘self-contained’, and you’ll see why I didn’t want to put in some of the next chapter in this one when you read the next one…
> 
> Much of the dialogue for this storyline is taken from/adapted from the show, so obviously, I can’t take credit for that!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Mac, we can’t just sneak out of our own wedding reception!’


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a warning for the fact that this chapter contains (reasonably minor) sexual references, of the kind that we have gotten very occasionally on the show (visually or verbally), I think.

Five weeks later, Mac, Bozer, Jack, James MacGyver, Charlie Robinson, Alex Lucas, Sidney and the rest of Jack’s old elite squad of Knights (who still called Mac ‘the new guy’) were all sitting by a lake an hour from Lafayette Town, fishing, eating snacks and drinking beer.

(Their hands were free for the latter two as the fishing rods were all in special, Engineer-designed holders.)

Mac and Beth’s wedding was tomorrow, and hence, today was Mac’s bachelor party, which Jack had insisted on throwing for him.

He was, at least, relieved that they hadn’t dragged him to one of those taverns where the waitresses and barmaids…well, weren’t exactly dressed in a way considered ‘decent’.

Except right now, he was really thinking that he should have put his foot down more and insisted on not having a bachelor party.

(He also now really understood why Michael had turned down his invitation – Mac’s soon-to-be father-in-law was a personal friend, too – and given him three kegs of Lafayette’s finest beer for the occasion.)

Jack was talking (rather solemnly) and pointing at him with a mug of beer.

‘…just saying, brother, you should be glad she’s a Healer and not one of ‘em real sheltered noble Ladies who got no idea how it all works-‘

Mac, his ears burning, and feeling vaguely horrified and definitely embarrassed, interrupted, too loudly and too suddenly, but he really didn’t care.

‘Jack, we are _not_ having this conversation!’

(He took solace in the fact that his dad looked even more discomfited.)

‘Oh, this is real uncomfortable for me too, son, but I thought it was my duty-‘

Mac made an incredulous gesture.

‘You think this is uncomfortable for _you_?’

Everyone else looked mostly amused (there were some chuckles and snorts and smirks), but Caleb Worthy (being a wonderful human being), despite grinning, grabbed a bag of pork rinds and tossed it at Jack’s head.

Jack caught it instead, and Caleb just spread his hands wide in front of him.

‘Come on, you lot weren’t so bad when Olivia and I got married. Leave the new guy alone.’

Alex Lucas, meanwhile, tossed Mac his Rubik’s cube. Mac caught it, and raised it in thanks, then got to work solving the puzzle, and Alex gestured with his head towards the peanut gallery.

‘You can owe me one.’

Mac gave a nod of acknowledgement at that.

(Alex and Jill’s wedding was four days after his and Beth’s, because Jill wanted Matty there and there was only so much time the Spymaster could be away from the capital.)

Jack opened his mouth again, and both MacGyvers just shot him nearly-identical _looks._

‘ _No_.’

‘Absolutely not, Dalton.’

Conveniently, at that moment, Jack’s fishing rod started to wiggle.

Then, Charlie stole the pork rinds, and thankfully, all embarrassing conversations were forgotten in the perennial battle between man and fish, and the equally-perennial competition between man and friend over who could catch the most foodstuffs in their mouths.

* * *

At the same time, in a cosy, private tower room in Castle Lafayette, Diane was telling Nicole about the design for Beth’s wedding dress (she was one of the seamstresses entrusted with the task), while Mama Colton bossed her daughter Jessie around as they unpacked the food for the gathering (which included her famous buttermilk pie). Beth’s mother was pouring out drinks, while Riley, Jill and Leanna were in the corner with their heads close together and whispering in a way that made the bride-to-be a little nervous.

There was a knock on the door, and Beth opened it, to reveal Matty, with a bag with tissue paper coming out of the top in her hands. The Spymaster smiled at her.

‘Congratulations.’

Beth smiled back at her.

(She wasn’t all that close to the Spymaster, but had invited her to the gathering in lieu of Mac’s mother, since she was – in Mac’s eyes – the closest thing he had.)

‘Thank you!’

Matty handed the bag to her, then put her hands on her hips.

‘I’m leaving before conversation turns to what happens _after_ the wedding.’

Beth’s cheeks flushed a little at that, and she nodded.

‘So are my mom, Diane, Mama and Nicole…’ She trailed off a little awkwardly, then gestured over at where her mom was setting out wine glasses. ‘Would you like some wine?’

* * *

‘…your dad and I had those made when you were a little girl.’ Caitlyn smiled at her daughter, her eyes soft and affectionate, as Beth opened her gift, raising one of a half-dozen bronze hairpins decorated with sapphires in the package. Then, she held up one of the other half-dozen, which were also bronze, but decorated with love knots made out of what appeared to be bronze paperclips. They were surprisingly, impressively intricate. ‘And we had those made last month.’ Caitlyn’s smile widened a little. ‘Your dad roped Mac into it.’

(Hairpins were the traditional gift from parents to daughter in Phoenix on marriage. Traditionally, it was one dozen hairpins, half made when a girl was young, and half when she became betrothed, usually with some kind of symbolism relating to her future husband. It wasn’t exactly traditional to have said future husband help make them, but the Lafayette line wasn’t really one for tradition.)

Beth put the hairpins in her hand down, and carefully set the package aside, before leaning over to hug her mother tightly.

‘Thanks, Mom.’

Her mother hugged her back just as tightly, and whispered in her ear.

‘I’m so happy for you.’ Her voice turned wry. ‘And you don’t need me to tell you that your dad is over the moon.’

He wasn’t just over the moon because he was happy for his daughter, to have found someone to share her life with, though it was mostly that.

In his opinion, she couldn’t have chosen a better man, and he was _really_ excited to have another Engineer in the family.

* * *

When the door closed behind Mama Colton, carrying the now-empty buttermilk pie tin, Riley, Jill, Leanna and Jessie all turned to Beth with surprisingly-similar little smiles on their faces, all of which had more than a hint of a smirk in them.

Beth sighed, but smiled as she shook her head, even as her cheeks pinked a little, passing out goblets of cordial, before sitting down on a cushion.

‘I _did_ spend years studying anatomy, physiology and bodily functions.’

The other four women just smirked a little more.

Jill nodded, her expression as mischievous as Beth had ever seen.

‘Oh, we know.’

Jessie picked up a fruit tart for herself, continuing.

‘It just means we can get a little more…in-depth without freaking you out.’

Leanna, wordlessly, picked up some of the unopened gifts sitting in the corner (the kind that one did not want to open in front of your mother and the closest thing your fiancé had to a mother), and passed them to Beth, while Riley made a bit of a face, and pointed at the gifts.

‘But I do _not_ want to hear about what you do with those.’

Mac was the closest thing she had to a brother.

There were some things you preferred to remain a mystery about your siblings.

* * *

Mac checked his reflection one last time in the mirror.

He was mostly wearing his Engineer’s formal uniform, and his black boots were shiny, black trousers pressed, cream shirt free of any stains.

His usual leather tunic had been replaced, however, with a fine, rich blue one (he had been given no choice in the colour whatsoever), and he was wearing his Engineer’s coat, which he had cleaned meticulously for the occasion.

He had also gotten a haircut and made sure that there was no grease between his fingers or under his nails or otherwise on his person.

He was a little nervous (that was apparently normal), but mostly excited and happy, and also a little relieved that the three months of wedding planning were over.

There was a knock on the door, and then, it opened, to reveal Jack and Bozer, both also dressed in finery.

(He had two Best Men. You were only _supposed_ to have one, but there’d never been any question in Mac’s mind about having anyone other than Jack _and_ Bozer.)

With a soft grin, Bozer held out a little pouch to him, and Mac took it and opened it curiously.

Inside, there was a note from Beth, which simply said, _for while you’re waiting._

It was accompanied by a half-dozen paperclips. Mac smiled, soft and fond and loving, and stashed them in one of his coat pockets, while Jack reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, grinning in that same soft way.

‘That’s true love, right there, son.’ Then, Jack’s grin grew teasing. ‘You ready to sign away your freedom?’

Mac just shook his head with a chuckle (Jack would never change, something he was very glad for), and straightened his coat one last time.

‘Let’s go.’

* * *

Looking back, Mac wouldn’t remember all that much of his actual wedding.

Oh, he remembered watching Beth walk down the aisle, on her father’s arm, looking absolutely beautiful and radiant. He’d remember how her hair was intricately braided into a crown around her head ( _very, very_ intricately braided, in a way that’d made him really look forward to disassembling it later), sapphires and bronze glittering in it. He’d remember that her dress was blue, and to his knowledge, fairly simple and non-extravagant as far as wedding dresses went, lacking a train, made of rich blue silk (the colour of his tunic made sense now) with intricate bronze embroidery used to great and flattering effect.

He’d remember how her father had stopped a few feet away from the altar, whispered something in her ear that made her smile soften with affection even more, and then patted her arm and stepped aside.

He’d remember how she walked the last few feet to him, and he’d remember holding out his hands for hers, and the way she’d smiled up at him when she took them.

The world had narrowed, stilled, somehow in that moment, and it’d been like it was just the two of them, his mind unusually quiet.

(He was also pretty sure that he’d said _hi_ to her at that moment, which was weird and a little awkward, but she’d just giggled and said it back.)

(Mutual weirdness was great. He really, really loved this woman.)

Most of the ceremony itself passed in a bit of a blur, though he thankfully didn’t forget or mess up any of his lines, and managed to slide the gold band onto her finger without any difficulty, and then, before he knew it, the King (who was performing the wedding, as the most senior official present), declared them man and wife, and told him to kiss the bride, finally, and thoroughly.

(That was an actual quote. King Ethan had a healthy sense of fun and humour.)

He’d done as told.

* * *

When the newlyweds were announced and presented on the castle walls, to the cheering crowd of Lafayette Town’s inhabitants that’d gathered outside (it seemed that the Town was throwing a street party, which Jack privately thought was going to be more fun than the actual wedding reception, with all of its formalities), Jack swore he spotted The Cage Witch, wearing a cream dress, blonde hair billowing, with a knowing smile on her face.

He also swore he spotted The Witch of Thorns, wearing burgundy (again) and with a little smile that he’d call heartfelt.

But both of them were gone in a blink, before he could ask anyone to confirm if or if not he was seeing things.

* * *

‘Mac, we can’t just sneak out of our own wedding reception!’

Beth looked rather incredulously at him as he led her towards a corridor with a secret passage behind a painting of a flying bowl of fruit, under the pretence of getting his new wife a drink ‘after all that dancing.’

His father, who’d been part of the conversation they were in, had quirked an eyebrow at him upon hearing that excuse, and Mac had wondered if his dad was going to give them away, but he’d just smiled at the two of them (small and soft and gentle) and inclined his head, before turning to engage a stuffy nobleman (who would be scandalized by the bride and groom sneaking out) in conversation.

Mac just smirked as they swung past the drinks table, grabbing a couple of goblets of whatever he could reach first as cover.

‘Oh, we definitely _can._ ’ He had escaped from tighter clutches. Beth shot him a _look_ (to him, it said, _I appreciate your excellent grasp of grammar, but you are deliberately misinterpreting me, Angus MacGyver!)_ , and his smirk took on a sheepish note for a moment. He paused and let go of her hand just inside the corridor, where they were hidden from view of the reception going on in the ballroom. ‘The speeches have been made, the pies have been cut and served, we’ve had our first dance, and we’ve made a circuit of the room. We’ve completed all of our social obligations.’ The smirk grew more wry. ‘As long as the drinks keep flowing, and with a little help from some friends…’ He’d recruited several to help him out. ‘…most people won’t even notice we’re gone.’

Beth tilted her head to the left a little, considering, before she grinned at him, a little mischievously.

‘You make a compelling argument, and privacy _has_ been in short supply…’

As tradition dictated, they hadn’t been allowed to see each other in the twenty-four hours before the wedding, and even before that, wedding preparations and greeting all of the very important guests had eaten up a lot of time in the last couple weeks.

She took his hand, and he reached up to tap the stones next to the pear being launched out of the flying fruit bowl in a set pattern.

The painting swung open, and they clambered through the hole in the wall into the passage.

‘You have no idea how glad I am that your dress doesn’t have a train.’

‘You’d have improvised something.’

‘…Yeah, but I don’t think you’d have liked it very much.’

_Now, I’ve never been married before, but cutting the train off your new wife’s wedding dress is probably a ticket to starting your marriage sleeping on the couch._

* * *

They exited the secret passage in a storeroom in the kitchen, because Beth had wanted to make a detour there.

(She had poked him in the chest and pointed out that – as the centre of attention at the reception – neither of them had had much by way of dinner, and that she hadn’t gotten to have more than a couple of bites at lunch either, due to how long it took to braid her hair and get her into her dress.)

They emerged from the storage room, to find Mama Colton sending a bunch of servers out the door with trays of snacks for the wedding guests.

One of the servers’ eyes widened when she saw them, and she opened her mouth, but Mama shot her a _look,_ which she then directed at all the other servers.

They all smiled knowingly, a couple gave them salutes, and then they all headed towards the ballroom.

Mama, looking utterly unsurprised, then smiled at the newlyweds.

‘None of ‘em will give you away.’ She walked over to them, and pulled Beth into a hug. ‘The basket you asked for is in the first pantry, sugar.’ Beth looked a little surprised (since she hadn’t expected to require it so soon), before it disappeared and she smiled and shook her head. Mama Colton was always one step ahead. She went to get the basket, and as soon as she was out of sight, Mama pulled out a large knife from somewhere and pointed the tip at Mac, who put his hands up automatically. ‘Now, _you_ better treat her right.’

He nodded, looking Mama straight back in the eye.

‘I will, I promise.’

Mama Colton studied him for a moment, then chuckled, put down the knife and smiled, just like she had at Beth earlier, and held up her arms for a hug.

‘Welcome to the family, son.’

A little bit thrown by the turn of events, Mac hugged her back, letting go just as Beth came back holding a large picnic basket, which he took from her immediately. She shook her head, but smiled and let him take it.

Mama Colton smiled too, then gestured at the door.

‘I didn’t see you two…’

With smiles and waves, the two of them snuck out of the kitchen and towards what was now their living quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding of the Year finally arrived! Hope you guys enjoyed it; there’s going to be more wedding shenanigans in the next chapter, don’t you worry! 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Is that really at the top of your priorities list right now?’


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warning as for the last chapter.

When they reached the door to what was now _their_ bedchamber, Mac opened it, and used the heavy (seriously, what was in there?) picnic basket to prop it open, before grinning in a way that was nearly a smirk, picking up his new wife, and carrying her over the threshold and into the room.

Beth made a little noise of surprise when he picked her up, and reflexively grasped the front of his coat for a moment, before shaking her head, as if to say, _really, Mac?_

In response, he just shifted her around a little so he could kiss her, before speaking as he set her down in front of the hearth.

‘We can’t ignore _all_ the traditions…’

Beth shook her head fondly again, then reached up to kiss him once her feet were back on the ground.

When they needed to breathe properly, and had to pull away from each other, she rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, before going to grab the picnic basket and close the door.

He took a moment to look around the chambers they’d now share, since he hadn’t been in her (well, now _their_ ) chambers since he’d turned back into a man.

The bookshelves on either side of the nightstands had been removed (they were now downstairs in her new study), as had her desk in the corner (also in the study), which had been replaced by a second wardrobe, dresser and dressing screen.

A new armchair had been added to her reading nook, and the chest at the foot of the bed had been removed, to make a space for Hope’s bed. There was an additional cubby for his boots and a hook for his coat by the door.

The room had also acquired a new, larger four-poster bed for the two of them.

(That didn’t seem strictly necessary, since both of them were used to sleeping in small spaces, and Beth was tiny and he was lean and not particularly tall…but it wasn’t as if he had any complaints.)

Beth hefted the picnic basket over to the foot of the bed, where it made a very loud _thump._

Mac’s brow furrowed.

‘What’s _in_ there?’

Beth straightened up, and smiled at him in a way that was sweet and seductive and a little shy, all at once (it was very _her_ ), her cheeks pink.

‘Is that really at the top of your priorities list right now?’

(Her conversation with Riley, Leanna, Jill and Jessie the day before was clearly getting to her.)

_Okay, look, judging by my dad, a good sense of priorities probably isn’t a MacGyver family trait._

_Judging by both of us, curiosity definitely is._

_But I’m not an idiot._

‘Uh, no. Definitely not.’ He paused, as realization hit him. (His brain wasn’t quite at full capacity right now.) ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

Her blush darkened a little, but she kept smiling that smile.

‘Human beings can survive up to three weeks without food. I’ll be fine for a while longer.’ Her smile widened a little. ‘Besides, priorities.’

Mac smiled, with more than a hint of a smirk in it.

‘You do have an excellent sense of priorities.’

He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist, ducking his head a little, as she reached up to meet him halfway.

* * *

Jack returned to where Diane was sitting at one of the tables by the dance floor, handing her a glass of wine, which she took with a smile.

Jack smiled back, and sat down with his own mug of beer, between Diane and Nessa, who was sitting next to her brother.

Both kids were digging into slices of chocolate cream pie (there’d been seventeen varieties of pie instead of a wedding cake), and keeping an eye on Sidney, who was dancing with their mother not too far away.

Jack’s smile shifted a little, growing even softer and fonder, and Diane smiled a little wider too, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Their lovely little moment of peace was interrupted a few minutes later, when Lord Chicago stopped by their table to talk to Jack.

‘Excuse me, have you seen Lady Bethany and Lord Angus?’

Jack had to fight a teasing grin at that.

(Mac was going to _hate_ being called Lord Angus.)

‘Eh…I think I saw ‘em talking to Charlie Robinson, that guy over there, ‘bout fifteen minutes ago? He might know where they are.’

He pointed at the other end of the room, where Charlie was in conversation with Jill and Alex.

Diane spoke up, setting down her wineglass.

‘I saw Lady Beth in the ladies’, powdering her nose, probably around ten minutes ago.’

Nate piped up, with a little bit of chocolate pie filling stuck to the side of his upper lip.

‘And Lord Mac was stealing the pumpkin pie.’

Nessa chipped in.

‘Lady Beth really loves pumpkin pie!’

Lord Chicago nodded slowly.

‘Thank you for your assistance.’

He seemed to decide that Charlie was the safest place to start, and made his way over to the chatting Engineers and Scribe.

Jack, Diane, Nate and Nessa all exchanged satisfied looks and grins with varying degrees of mischief, and Jack reached out to clink his mug of beer to Diane’s wineglass and the kids’ glasses of juice.

* * *

Bozer grinned as he and Leanna twirled around the dance floor, letting go of her hand so she could spin gracefully away as the music faded out.

He clapped as she gave an elegant little curtsey, and offered her his arm as she came closer again, escorting her over to the drinks table.

‘Have I told you how much I love your dance moves?’

Leanna shook her head, a teasing little smile on her face.

‘Only twice today.’

Bozer grinned wider and leaned closer to her.

‘Well, then, Miss Martin, let me tell you for the third time: I love your moves.’

When they reached the drinks table, Bozer convinced one of the barkeeps manning it to let him mix drinks for both him and Leanna (it involved whiskey and two kinds of cordial and was really delicious), and then they sat down at an empty table to enjoy their drinks.

A couple of minutes later, Lady New York approached the young couple.

‘Excuse me, but have either of you seen the happy couple? I can’t seem to find them anywhere…’

Bozer and Leanna exchanged a glance, Bozer speaking first.

‘My bro said they were heading out to the courtyard to get some fresh air.’

Some of the party had spilled out onto the courtyard that the ballroom opened out into, despite the fact that the night air was starting to get cooler again, since it was October.

Leanna nodded.

‘And if they’re not out there anymore, Lady Beth said something about pouring drinks for Sir Dalton and Lord Angus’s old squad, to thank them for watching her husband’s back all those years ago…’

Lady New York nodded.

‘Ah. Thank you.’

She walked away, towards the courtyard, and Bozer grinned, Leanna smiled, and the two of them clinked their glasses together, before Bozer leaned over for a kiss.

‘You are _awesome_ when you’re being all devious.’

* * *

Billy and Riley waltzed slowly around the edge of the dance floor, passing elegantly between the other dancers.

As the music came to an end, Riley cuddled a little closer to him for a beat. Billy smiled, resting his head on hers for a moment, before they moved apart slightly, and he with his arm around her, made their way over to a table, picking up a couple of tarts from a server as they did.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, as they at their snacks, and then, Billy straightened up a little and pulled a silver ring with a garnet on it out of his pocket.

Riley raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re not proposing, are you?’

Billy shook his head with an easy laugh.

‘No, I like how things are going.’

She smiled at that.

‘Yeah, me too.’

He held out the ring, and raised an eyebrow at her in question. Riley nodded, and he slipped it on her finger.

‘This is just a gift.’ His smile turned into a bit of a smirk. ‘A token of my appreciation and respect.’

Riley gave a snort at that, as well as a fond smile, remembering Midsummer, and was just about to lean over to kiss him when they were interrupted by a throat-clearing.

‘Excuse me, dears, but have you seen the newlyweds? They seem to have disappeared into thin air!’

Mrs Kastrati (whom Mac and Beth had had no choice but to invite to the wedding, along with the rest of her family), waved a hand as if to illustrate how ridiculous she found that concept.

Riley pursed her lips, pretending to think.

‘They were getting a second piece of pie, last time I saw them.’

Mrs Kastrati made a tut-tutting noise, and muttered something under her breath that Riley nonetheless was sure she meant them to hear.

‘Well, at least if she loses her figure now, he can’t leave her…’

Riley and Billy exchanged a glance (being nobility had the downside of having to invite people you really couldn’t stand to _your_ wedding), and then Billy spoke up, all mock-politeness.

‘I think they planned to ask the band to play something very energetic next, to burn off all those calories.’

Mrs Kastrati glanced towards KC and the Sunshine Band (neither Mac nor Beth cared much about the music played, except for the fact that they’d rather not have stuffy, old-fashioned musicians who played the same few very long, repetitive songs over and over again that were common at noble weddings – it was thought that hiring the musicians who played Lafayette Town’s festivals would be a step too far, so KC and the Sunshine Band had been hired: they played ‘commoners’ music’ but were also the King’s favourite band, so stuffy nobles and merchants couldn’t say much negative about them), curled her lip up a little, and then bade them farewell.

Riley and Billy exchanged a glance, and then Riley leaned over to kiss him, pretending as if the interruption had never happened.

* * *

Michael had just executed his plan when there was a tap on his shoulder, and he whirled around, feeling for all the world a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar (which was ridiculous, as he was a grown man and Lord Lafayette), with a quarter of a pumpkin pie, still in its tin (now somewhat re-shaped), wrapped in a napkin, tucked into a large inner pocket of his Engineer’s coat.

(If his son-in-law was going to wear one to his wedding, he was using it as an excuse to wear his and consequently not wear stuffy formalwear.)

His wife just smiled at him, soft and fond and a little teasing in a way that made her look years younger and him feel years younger, quirking an eyebrow at him.

‘You don’t have to steal it, you know. Mama Colton made some pumpkin tarts, especially for her, which I expect will be consumed in due course.’

(Michael adored their daughter. He also adored Mac. He’d been ridiculously gleeful and excited in the last couple of days, almost childishly so, and would probably continue to be for quite a while yet.)

(Hence, the pumpkin pie thievery. Social cues and norms weren’t the easiest thing for her husband, and he did tend to prefer engineering solutions over, well, things like asking the staff to set it aside, so she knew full-well that this was a sweet, loving, paternal gesture on his part, rather than a bit weird and bizarre.)

(He probably had intended to hide it in their quarters, or somewhere in the kitchen, until the next morning. Possibly in the secret passage off the third storage room.)

Michael smiled back in that slightly mischievous, youthful way, reaching out to take his wife’s hand.

‘Well, then, now that we’re in possession of a quarter of a pumpkin pie, would you care to share it with me, Cait?’

She smiled back, and in answer, just pulled two spoons out of a pocket hidden somewhere in the folds of her gown.

* * *

Mac, wearing a pair of loose sleep pants, banked and stoked the fire, while Beth unpacked the picnic basket. She’d stolen his Engineer’s coat, not that he minded in the slightest.

(It looked better on her. Especially over a nightgown that was decidedly less modest than the ones she’d worn when he’d been cursed.)

He looked a little astounded at the array of foodstuffs that’d come out of the basket. Idly, his brain noted that Beth might have learned some of her packing skills from Mama Colton.

There was a substantial selection of the miniature pies and tarts that were circulating at the reception, as well as a handful of pumpkin tarts which he was sure Mama had made for her. There was an assortment of fruit, a chunk of ham, a good portion of salami, some olives, and no fewer than four different cheeses (those were all also circulating at their wedding reception). There were some flatbreads, as well as a loaf of bread, wrapped up securely like one would wrap bread for travelling, for some reason, along with a jar of blueberry preserves.

There was also a bottle of cordial, one of apple juice and a bottle of _very_ nice red wine.

Mama Colton had also included two goblets, a cheese knife, a bread knife and a plate (it was traditional to share one at your wedding) and some napkins.

Mac looked from the unpacked contents, to the picnic basket, and back again, before raising an eyebrow.

‘Does Mama really expect us to eat all of this?’

Even if they decided to stay up all night and engage in energy-burning activities instead of sleeping, this was still a ridiculously large amount of food to last them until breakfast the next morning.

Beth smiled in that same sweet and shy and seductive way she’d had earlier, and put the chunk of salami, the two wedges of hard cheese, the preserves and most of the fruit into the earthenware pot that’d been in the basket (partly explaining the weight), setting it aside along with the apple juice and the loaf of wrapped bread.

‘I asked Mama to give us some breakfast, too, since the formal farewell for our guests isn’t until 1:30 tomorrow.’

_My dad said something along the lines of it being a good thing that I have a very organized wife who is very good with plans, considering that I am utterly hopeless with them._

_That makes perfect sense. Complimentary skill-sets and being able to fill each other’s weak points and all._

_But I’m beginning to see auxiliary benefits that I think my dad really wouldn’t have been thinking about._

_Or, at least, would have been trying very hard not to think about._

The expression on his face was somewhere between smug smirk and besotted grin. Beth smiled a little wider, and sat down and picked up the cheese knife.

Mac put down the poker and settled himself by her side, an arm loosely around her waist, and Beth cut a piece of cheese, and wrapped it in flatbread, before holding it up to him. He took a bite, then took the cheese-wrapped bread from her, and she took a pumpkin tart and curled into him to savour it.

* * *

At the respectable hour of 9:00 the next morning, Jack and Bozer crept through Mac and Beth’s wing of Castle Lafayette.

When they reached their bedroom door, they exchanged a glance and a mischievous grin.

(Hey, they’d waited until a respectable hour. They weren’t _savages_.)

‘Are you sure this is a good idea, man? I love my bro, but there’s some things I don’t wanna see!’

Jack made a face that matched Bozer’s, as the younger man shuddered.

‘Yeah, me too, Boze, trust me.’ He had no interest in seeing Mac’s skinny butt. ‘That’s why we ain’t breaking in, brother!’

Jack reached out and knocked on the door, ignoring the picnic basket sitting outside.

‘Good morning, brother!’

‘Hey, bro, I made waffles! You two wanna join us for breakfast?’

* * *

Inside, and in bed with his wife, where he intended to stay for as long as possible, Mac groaned as he was pulled from his peaceful dozing as his predictions were proven correct.

Underneath his right arm, which had somehow wound up flung across her stomach as they’d slept, Beth shifted a little and propped herself up a little on her elbows, hair mussed and looking adorably sleepy. She gave a wry smile and shook her head in a way that was very exasperated but definitely fond.

‘Well, you were right.’

Mac rolled his eyes (another long-suffering but ultimately affectionate gesture), and with some reluctance, rolled over from where he was somewhere between on his side and on his front onto his back, reaching for the string tied to the nearest poster of the bed.

‘Jack and Bozer, especially Jack, would never miss an opportunity to get one up on me.’

He gave the string a tug, then rolled back over to curl around Beth, who’d rearranged herself onto her side.

* * *

Outside, the picnic basket sprung open, and water started to spray out of a couple of bottles inside, hitting both Jack and Bozer.

They both cursed. Loudly.

Diane, Leanna and Riley would _know_ now, for sure. And then they would be in _Trouble._

‘Okay, brother, okay, we get it!’

‘We’ll see you later!’

* * *

As Jack and Bozer’s footsteps receded, Mac smiled in satisfaction and Beth had a fit of giggles that he felt as much as heard.

Simply because he could, he shifted a touch so he could press a kiss to her shoulder.

That had been completely worth getting out of bed at dawn for fifteen minutes.

(Imagining Diane, Leanna and Riley’s _looks_ was the icing on the cake.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing the mischief in this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I do hope that one day, we get to see crazy misdirection a la what the gang pulled off at the reception in the show; it’d just be really funny.
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘…now, you just gotta bend your arms like this, then flap along to the beat…’


	28. Chapter 28

A month later, at the Harvest Festival, Jack and Diane shared a piece of pumpkin pie while sitting on a log near one of the bonfires.

Between bites, Jack told the story of the time he and Mac had defeated a bunch of bad guys at a Harvest Festival.

‘…I kid you not, the kid just grabs all of this stuff, and tosses it into the fire, and there’s a _fwoof…’_

Behind them, there was a _fwoof._

Diane arched an eyebrow.

‘Like that?’

‘Yeah, exactly like that!’

A look of nearly comical realization crossed Jack’s face, and he turned around, to see a purple bonfire. The bonfire was surrounded by a gaggle of the town’s kids at a good, safe distance, who were very excited and watching with wide eyes. Some of them were clapping. Standing a little closer to the fire were Mac, Beth, Alex and Jill, both sets of newlyweds with several bundles of goodness-knows-what by them, and apparently giving a science lesson as well as a show.

Beth finished explaining something, then, with a rather childlike grin, tossed one of her bundles into the fire, which turned it green.

Jack and Diane watched the scene for a couple of minutes.

Given the looks on the two couples’ faces, as they talked to the children and let some of the older ones toss bundles in to change the fire’s colour, Jack fervently hoped that they’d have their own sooner rather than later.

That thought had barely crossed his mind when he was hit with a terrifying vision of the future.

Two little boys, both blonde and blue-eyed (though the shades varied), close enough in appearance that they could be brothers, running through the castle corridors, pulling a kite-like thing behind them and chattering about aerodynamics (a word they had to carefully enunciate), or absolutely covered in grease and with springs and bits of metal and whatnot sticking out of their hair, looking sheepish but insisting that they absolutely _had_ to try and work out how it worked, or accidentally (possibly on purpose) turning some stuffy nobleman’s hair bright orange.

Diane smiled knowingly at him, like she could see what’d been in his mind’s eye, and leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘Looking forward to being a grandfather?’

Jack smiled and shook his head a little.

Who was he kidding?

Mac’s kids were going to be more-than-handfuls, he was sure, even with Beth’s influence, babbling about science that he didn’t understand by the time they were five, roping him into experiments with puppy dog eyes and _please Grandpa Jack,_ but he’d love them to bits.

‘Yeah.’ He gestured to the group around the now-pink bonfire. ‘Hopefully sooner rather than later, while I’m still young enough to enjoy ‘em…and deal with ‘em.’

* * *

Meanwhile, Billy brought a platter of food over to Riley, whom, on his insistence, was sitting at a rough-hewn wooden table, relaxing over a mug of beer after a hard day’s work.

She smiled up at him, then stole a miniature meat pie, which made him chuckle as he sat down next to her and picked up a quarter of a chicken sandwich.

‘Oh, I see how it is, lady…’

Riley swallowed her mouthful of pie, and spoke just as teasingly.

‘The way to a woman’s heart…’

The bounty hunter laughed, before finishing his chicken sandwich quarter and growing serious.

‘I found out today that I’m gonna have to go out of town for a while, Riley. We got a skip who’s real good at hiding and got himself a real good head start…’

Riley sighed.

‘Weeks?’

Billy nodded, and she sighed again. He reached out and squeezed her hand.

‘I’m gonna do everything I can to be back for Yule.’

He said it like it was a promise, because it was, which made Riley smile again.

(She got it. Billy’s job – and his family, by extension – were very important to him. She couldn’t ask him to give it up for her, just like he couldn’t ask her to give up the restaurant – for which she worked long hours, reducing the time they could spend together - for him.)

She took another bite of her pie, chewed and swallowed.

‘Then we’d better make the most of tonight.’

Billy smiled at her, soft and loving, and leaned over to kiss the side of her forehead tenderly. Then, he pulled back and smirked.

‘Lady, I love the way you think…’

* * *

‘Come on, Leanna! It’s lots of fun!’

Leanna arched an eyebrow at Bozer as he did a very strange dance that she had never seen before, along with a bunch of kids.

They seemed to be impersonating some kind of bird?

She raised an eyebrow further, hesitating (she didn’t really do much by way of silly or undignified…this was way out of her comfort zone), and Bozer broke off from the group and pointed at Nessa with a grin.

‘You’re in charge!’ Then, he made his way over to Leanna, holding his arms out. ‘I promise, it’s fun!’

She gave a little smile.

‘It does look like it.’ She paused, a suspicion coming over her. ‘Did you come up with this dance?’

Bozer nodded, a surprisingly fond, soft touch in the grin on his face.

‘Yeah, it’s a long story. Involves my bro studying chicken flight, not enough sleep and a little too much liquor…’ Bozer looked a touch sheepish, before grinning outrageously again. ‘I’ll tell you all about it later, Miss Martin! Now, come on, let your hair down, relax and do something out there!’

He held out a hand to her, and after another moment’s hesitation, Leanna took it with a smile and a head-shake.

Bozer’s enthusiasm was hard to say no to. It was also contagious.

‘…now, you just gotta bend your arms like this, then flap along to the beat…’

* * *

A week and a half before Yule, Beth got out of the bathtub, dried herself off, wrapped a towel around her hair, put on her nightgown and robe, then searched for her hairbrush.

It’d been a long and difficult day at the Houses. One of _those_ days.

A young farmer had died of injuries inflicted in an accident with his farming equipment. She hadn’t been able to save him, and he’d left behind a toddler and a heavily-pregnant widow. One of his farmhands, a teenage boy, had tried to save him, and suffered injuries to his left arm that were likely to cripple function in that arm for the rest of his life.

She was looking forward to just curling up in bed with Mac and getting a good night’s sleep, with the hope that tomorrow would be a better day.

Her hairbrush wasn’t where she’d left it in the morning, nor was it anywhere in the bathroom.

Beth made a noise of great frustration.

Five days ago, it’d been using all of her hairpins, so they’d had to improvise some out of paperclips in the morning. A week before that, he’d used the whole container of toothpaste. Before that, all three cakes of soap they had, the poker and every single writing implement in their chambers.

Not to mention, all the stuff he’d pick up and absent-mindedly put somewhere else, before or after using it in a non-destructive way.

It drove her orderly, be-prepared nature nuts. Besides, one needed things like hairpins and toothpaste and soap; she wouldn’t mind him using _some_ of it and letting her know so she could have the supplies replenished sooner than expected, but he tended to forget to tell her, and often used it _all,_ so they didn’t have any when they needed it.

She opened the bathroom door.

‘Mac, _what did you do_ to my hairbrush?’ Her husband was sitting on their bed, in the middle of cutting a strip off her breast bindings. An already-cut section was pinned to a pair of handkerchiefs using paperclips in front of him. And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Beth lost her temper, and wound up yelling at him. ‘What are you doing with that? Mac, you can’t just _destroy my things_ just because an idea seizes you! I _can’t stand it_ anymore!’

Hope, curled up at the foot of their bed, raised her head. She wasn’t used to her ‘parents’ fighting, not at all. She let out a quiet little whine, before something reassured her, and she lowered her head and dozed again.

Something hurt flickered across Mac’s face at her words, and his voice was definitely defensive when he replied.

‘You like the things I make, and my ideas!’

After a long moment of staring at him, that was enough to give Beth pause, make her take a deep breath, as some of her anger evaporated.

She knew that his mind was always buzzing with ideas, and that he had an _itch_ to keep his hands busy, and that he could get seized so deeply by an idea that he forgot about things like manners and politeness and the laws against petty theft and the need to ask for permission.

(The ideas usually came about due to his constant desire to help, but his attempts to fix or improve things for people were not always appreciated.)

Mac tried his best to keep that in check, but in certain spaces, like the workshop or his study or their chambers, he let go and relaxed completely, which was fair enough.

He _did_ still keep his hands off certain things (he never cannibalized her father’s projects without permission, nor did he touch the valuable jewellery in her jewellery box or destroy things like Hope’s favourite toys or her couple of expensive, fancy dresses), but otherwise, let the ideas take him.

And to be fair, she did love almost all the things he made, and his crazy, brilliant brain and ideas.

She just didn’t love not having any hairpins or not being able to brush her teeth or take a bath or stoke the fire.

Beth took another deep breath, and her voice was apologetic when she spoke again.

‘I’m sorry for yelling at you.’

Mac’s initial defensiveness had faded away too, while he’d given pause and taken a couple of deep breaths as she had. He gave a little smile at that, one that was more than a touch sheepish, and put down her ruined bindings and his Engineer’s knife.

‘I’m sorry for destroying your things.’ He glanced at the ruined bindings again, then at the lock of wet hair that’d slipped out of her towel, remembering how drained and saddened she’d looked when she’d come home, looking rather guilty. ‘I think you have a right to be angry at me.’

Beth walked over and sat down on the bed beside him, putting a hand over his, her voice firm.

‘I love you, and your crazy, brilliant mind and its ideas and what you make.’ That made Mac smile a little wider. ‘But, I also require hairpins and underclothes and the like, and we need a poker, toothpaste, soap and so on and so forth.’

Mac nodded in agreement.

If they didn’t come up with some kind of solution to this, they’d keep arguing. Worst-case scenario, like tonight, she’d lose her temper at him from time to time, and he would react defensively, wounded and hurt, it’d feel like she was rejecting him for who he really was on a fundamental level.

(That was a sore point for him. He was self-aware enough to know that.)

Beth was orderly, well-organized and liked to be prepared, to a near-obsessive and somewhat unnecessary degree. He was happy to live in a disorganized chamber, and tended to be on-the-fly and admittedly too careless about using up things like soap and toothpaste.

They had to find some kind of compromise.

Beth tilted her head to the left, thinking, before an idea hit her.

‘Mac, if we can come up with a list of essential items, do you think you can refrain from using them up if they can’t be replaced before we need them again, remember to get them replaced or replenished when you do use them up or nearly use them up, and/or put them away when you’re done using them?’

He considered that for a moment.

He probably couldn’t promise that he could, not without breaking that promise every now and then.

‘I will try my best.’

Beth sighed, but squeezed his hand and smiled, wry and fond, anyway.

‘That _is_ all I can ask of you.’

She leaned up to kiss him. It was soft and tender and a little reassuring, like they wanted to mark that the fight was over.

After that, Mac stood up and after a moment of screwing his face up a little in concentration, reached behind his dressing screen and grabbed her hairbrush off his dresser. He glanced at it, then looking decidedly sheepish, went into the bathroom to wash it.

When he came out again, he held up the cleaned and dried hairbrush.

‘Do you want me to brush your hair?’

Beth smiled.

‘Oh, yes, please.’ He smiled too, and knelt down behind her on the bed, unwinding the towel. Beth made a happy little noise in her throat as he ran the brush through her hair, then reached out to pull the handkerchiefs-and-cut-up-bindings combination onto her lap. She studied it for a moment. ‘Mac, were you trying to redesign my bindings?’

‘I thought it’d be more comfortable and less restrictive.’ He paused, voice growing a little sheepish and wry. ‘But in hindsight, I don’t have any expertise in this area, so…’

Beth pursed her lips, studying the half-made garment she was holding.

‘So this here would go around the ribcage, and the handkerchiefs would serve as, well, cups I guess, and then this part goes over the shoulders? You might be on to something, Mac…but I think you should fold the handkerchiefs this way…’

* * *

The next afternoon, after an early-morning run, three meetings and a lunch with a dignitary from a northern province, Mac walked into his study, to find a second box of presents from his wife next to the original box of junk (which Beth topped up periodically).

This second box contained fabric scraps, old hair ribbons, and a dozen handkerchiefs that were badly embroidered (he guessed they’d been used for embroidery training or practice), as well as some of her old bindings and what looked like ‘mistake’ defective hair pins.

There was also a proposed list of ‘items off-limits’, the note signed _please let me know if you have any suggestions/objections/other modifications, and if you want more materials, there are plenty more where these came from! Love, Beth._

* * *

After a lot of discussing and testing of designs, fourteen prototypes, and some very confused washerwomen, they’d come up with an improved bust-holding/supporting garment.

It caught on among the women of the castle at first, then the women of Lafayette Town, before continuing to spread and spread.

(It was more comfortable than corsets – popular among women who didn’t have to work, despite the health warnings on doing them up too tightly – or the bindings that Beth had used, apparently.)

Before he knew it, it’d become by far Mac’s most popular invention (or more accurately, joint invention) to date.

_Beth thinks it’s hilarious._

_The whole family thinks it’s hilarious, actually._

* * *

Two days before Yule, as Bozer and Riley were closing up the restaurant one night, the latter was definitely a little distracted.

Billy wasn’t back yet, and Bozer knew that Yule was important for Riley. Yule was _the_ holiday for family, and when Riley was young, with the exception of the years when Jack and Diane had been together the first time, things had been tough for her and her mom, and Yule had fallen by the wayside. Now that she had a bigger family, and life had a lot more light in it, Bozer would bet his bottom dollar that Yule was Riley’s favourite holiday.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of the leftover gingerbread slabs from the gingerbread houses he and his assistants had been building, using the techniques that he and Mac had perfected as teens.

Bozer plopped down in the chair nearest Riley, who was still holding the broom. He broke off a piece of gingerbread, popped it in his mouth, then offered his business partner the slab, nudging her a little.

Riley broke off a large chunk of gingerbread, and plopped down next to Bozer, who finished his piece of gingerbread before speaking.

‘Hey, if Billy’s not back in time, we can do a Yule do-over when he is.’ Bozer grinned. ‘Who doesn’t want _two_ Yule feasts?’

Riley blinked twice, then smiled, looking genuinely touched.

‘Thanks, Boze.’

‘It isn’t Yule if the whole family isn’t there.’ He pointed at her as he took another bit of gingerbread. ‘You have no idea how many times I had to do a Yule do-over ‘cause Mac and Jack weren’t back from some mission or the other…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Bozer is indeed doing the chicken dance, and he invented it while he was drunk and watching Mac (also a little drunk) attempting to study chicken flight. And yes, Mac and Beth invented the bra. Mostly because I thought it was funny. And I do maintain that living with Mac would drive you crazy on some level, because he’d do something to everything from the toilet plunger to the coffee machine to your clothes to the soap, and you’d be searching for things like the potato peeler or the extension cords endlessly when you needed them. Beth is really organized, so they had to work out a compromise or they’d drive each other mad!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘You could always say yes to his offer.’


	29. Chapter 29

The family had expanded so much that there wasn’t really enough room in what was now Bozer’s cottage for the Yule celebration, even though Jill and Alex were in Chicago visiting his family, James MacGyver and Matty had had to turn down their invitations as the capital was simply too far, and Elwood Davis had stopped by the day before to see Riley and give her (and Jack, for some reason) a Yule gift, but had declined to stay for the party.

Thus, it was being held in a chamber in the castle.

(Bozer wasn’t exactly sure what its intended purpose was. The castle was really big.)

In one corner, Jack, Diane, Michael and Caitlyn were drinking egg-nog. Jack and Michael seemed to be taking turns telling stories, while Diane and Caitlyn listened with looks that were long-suffering, yet indulgent.

Next to the Yule tree, Nessa was showing the bolt of very beautiful cloth she’d gotten for Yule to Bozer, who was smiling at the girl and offering suggestions of what could be made from it. (His great loves were cooking and writing plays, but Bozer was also really good at making clothes.) Mac was teaching Nate some cool tricks he could do with the yo-yo he’d gotten. Hope was eyeing the yo-yo with interest.

Sitting next to the tree and nibbling on fruit mince pies, Nicole and Sidney (who were holding hands), watched her children, both with fond, parental smiles on their faces.

Billy, who had indeed gotten home for Yule, sat at the table with his arm around Riley, while Riley and Leanna chatted over mulled wine.

Frank and Jessie Colton, sitting on Billy and Leanna’s other sides respectively, were having a contest to see who could build the tallest fruit cake tower.

Meanwhile, Beth and Mama Colton packed up the many leftovers, watching the fruit cake tower contest out of the corner of their eyes.

Mama Colton looked exasperated (though ultimately affectionate), muttering about how she’d taught them better table manners than that. Beth seemed to be both analysing the physics and engineering of the towers, as well as wondering when her husband would join in and how tall he’d get his.

* * *

_The answer, if you’re interested, is three and a half feet._

_I ran out of fruit cake._

* * *

In February, Leanna rubbed at her temple, having had a very long day in Court, as she walked home.

Reaching it, she saw that the lights were on, and there was a delicious smell drifting through the slightly-ajar window.

Smiling, Leanna opened the front door, to find Bozer, wearing an apron that said _Kiss the Cook_ , setting up dinner for her on the table.

She leaned over the table to kiss him, and then took a seat at the table and let him ply her with the delicious morsels he’d brought over from the restaurant.

She bit into a miniature burger, and was surprised to find some cheese ooze out of the centre of the patty.

Leanna licked some of the cheese off her fingers, glad that she’d put a napkin over her skirt.

‘This is the best surprise I’ve had all day.’

Bozer preened exaggeratedly, making her laugh, pushing the worries and exhaustion of the day to the back of her mind.

* * *

‘You gotta go?’

Billy, sitting opposite Riley at her kitchen table, the two of them having indulged in a bit of a sleep-in and a leisurely breakfast, sounded disappointed, though also understanding.

Riley nodded, feeling disappointed herself, though she knew she really had to get going.

She’d taken the dinner shift off two days ago, and yesterday had left Abina in charge for the lunch service. She was coming in late today, too.

She knocked back the last of her coffee, then got up and leaned down to give her suitor a proper kiss goodbye.

‘I’ll see you tonight?’

Billy grinned. He was in town for the next few days, required to testify in Court due to the most recent criminal he’d brought in.

‘I’ll be right here waiting for you, lady.’

* * *

A couple of months later, Billy had been away for two weeks running, and Riley was spending a late night at the restaurant finishing the books.

Abina, who was helping her close up (Bozer had left after service to see Leanna, with their blessing), knocked on the door of the little office.

‘The cleaning is all done, Riley.’

She looked up and managed to smile at the younger woman.

‘That’s great, Abina. Thanks. Tell the staff they can go, and take the leftovers home with you.’

She went back to her books, but Abina didn’t leave, just leaned on the doorway and crossed her arms.

‘You could always say yes to his offer.’

Billy had relayed a job offer to her from Mama Colton.

Riley was tough, strong, confident, clever and capable of defending herself. She’d be a great bounty hunter, and she and Billy could be partners in every way, travel Phoenix chasing bounties together.

But as appealing as being close to him practically all the time was, she didn’t want to take it up.

She loved the restaurant that she and Bozer had built together, loved what she did now.

And in all honesty, Riley loved being near the rest of her family, loved being settled in one place. Loved the steadiness, the reliability.

She’d built a business and a family and a home here in Lafayette, from patches and scraps, and she couldn’t give it up. She just couldn’t.

Billy had a home _,_ and valued his family very much, but at the same time, there was something itinerant about him too. He was happy to travel Phoenix, chasing skips, stopping in Lafayette to visit his loved ones regularly. It helped – probably helped a lot – that his brother and sister often went with him.

So, this missing one another, this distance, was just something they had to put up with, was just part of the cost of their relationship, a compromise that had to be made, as there were in any relationship.

Riley looked over at Abina, and the younger woman saw the answer on her face, and just nodded in understanding.

Abina and the rag-tag bunch of teens she was the leader of had found a home in Lafayette Town. After travelling for so long and not having anywhere to belong (even in the Southern Kingdom they’d been born in), none of them had any interest in leaving.

* * *

Early in the evening on a lazy Saturday, just a few days before Midsummer, Jack got up from where he and Diane had been curled in the loveseat in her living room, savouring the lazy day.

He stretched, and grabbed his boots, put them on, and leaned over to kiss her goodbye, very careful not to stand on the rug, as his boots were somewhat muddy.

‘Anything you want me to tell him?’

Jack was having dinner with Elwood Davis, as he was back in town for Midsummer to visit Riley.

Diane just shook her head, and Jack nodded easily, like it was inconsequential.

Diane accepted that her ex was a better man now than he’d been all those years ago. She trusted her daughter’s judgement.

She accepted that Riley was building a relationship with him, and supported that, happy for her baby girl.

She even accepted Elwood and Jack’s strange, sort-of friendship. Jack was a good influence on him, and since that’d help keep him on the straight and narrow and keep him from hurting Riley, of course she’d support that. He needed more friends who weren’t crooks and conmen.

Anyway, she wasn’t Jack’s keeper. They’d found each other again in their forties, when they had their own, independent lives, something which they’d agreed to respect as they wove their lives together again.

But she could never, ever be friends with Elwood, not after what he’d done to her.

For his part, he seemed to understand that, never asked Jack to pass along anything to her except the standard, polite greetings.

Jack opened the front door, waved goodbye, and headed out with a silly little salute that made her smile and shake her head fondly, before she went back to her book.

* * *

A couple of weeks after Midsummer, Beth woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, for no discernible reason, to find that she was alone in bed, and that Mac was standing out on the balcony, staring into the distance. Hope was lying there beside him, occasionally nudging him with her nose in a way that seemed concerned.

Beth got out of bed, and walked across to the balcony, being sure to make sure her footsteps were loud and clear.

‘Mac?’

He turned his head, and managed a little smile, but there was clearly something very substantial and likely more than a little dark and worried on his mind.

By now used to this, Beth just walked out onto the balcony, and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning against him.

Mac took a deep breath, relaxing a little, letting go of some of the tension. He found the warm weight of her to be soothing, comforting.

They both knew that she wouldn’t be able to get so close in this way for all that much longer. The still-small, firm swell of her belly was obvious to them now, though not yet obvious under her dresses.

Beth had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was keeping her husband up had a lot to do with his impending fatherhood.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then raised her hands, running them through his hair a few times, before finding those spots that were always particularly tense and digging her thumbs into them.

Mac relaxed a little more under her touch, and Hope gave a happy little yip, nudging them both, which got a fond little smile down at the dog from Beth.

‘A dollar for your thoughts?’

Mac gave a half-snort at that that was almost a laugh. A couple of seconds later, she felt as much as heard the deep breath he took, and felt him tense a little more again.

‘Unfortunately, I share many traits with my father.’ The way their brains worked, the way that they were scientists and inventors and Engineers through and through. The fact that they forgot about things like manners and politeness and asking for permission when they were caught up in an idea. A tendency towards obsession, and one towards being arrogant and condescending, though Mac knew he wasn’t as bad as his dad, probably because he tried much harder not to be. He sighed, voice growing small and vulnerable and a little scared. ‘What if…what if I’m like him?’

_What if I’m a terrible father?_

Beth sighed, let her hands drop and hugged him again, before moving to stand beside him, leaning against the railing, reaching out to put her hand over his.

The relationship between the MacGyvers had improved drastically. But that did not change the fact that James MacGyver had been a terrible father for most of Mac’s life, which had left its marks on her husband.

Beth gathered her thoughts, then spoke, her voice firm, like she really wanted to impress something on him.

‘Firstly, Mac, you also have many differences from your father. The most relevant one is the fact that you have a _much_ better sense of priorities.’ Mac valued family greatly (and not just _his_ family, but the whole concept of family, other people’s families). It was reflected even in his obsessions. Beth squeezed his hand, a little smile appearing on her face. ‘Recently, you’ve been obsessed with seeing to my every need and want, reading every book on pregnancy, childbirth and child-rearing we can get our hands on, and building a self-rocking cradle.’ Mac felt helpless in the process of gestating and birthing their child, and he didn’t deal so well with that, leading to a slightly manic level of being a doting, attentive and protective husband and father-to-be. He’d held her hair out of the way and rubbed her back through all of the nausea that was thankfully mostly gone, become famous for running through the castle or town at all hours to obtain foodstuffs, sometimes odd, and at least 10% of his brainpower now seemed to be devoted to baby-related inventions and engineering. ‘Secondly, you’ve had excellent examples of both what _not_ to do, and what _to_ do.’ His dad was in the former category, Jack and his grandfather in the latter. That got a wry little smile out of him, and a nod of firm agreement. ‘Thirdly, should something happen to trigger what I think would have to be a _substantial_ shift in personality, do you really think any member of this family would let you make your father’s mistakes?’

Mac really did have to agree with that. It was true.

Beth would scold him to high heavens. Jack would whoop his ass. Twice.

And that was just those two.

Heck, at this point, Mac suspected his own dad would give him a long, extremely didactic and probably condescending lecture about not making his mistakes.

Feeling as if those storm clouds in his mind that’d been keeping him awake had almost melted away, Mac reached out and put an arm around his wife, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

‘Thanks, Beth.’

She shifted a little so she could smile up at him, tapping first her ring, then his, with a finger.

‘We did promise to look after each other.’ She yawned. Normally energetic, pregnancy had left her feeling far less so. ‘And on that note, we both need to get some sleep.’

Hope seemed to agree with that, as she’d trotted over to her bed and started to doze.

Mac smiled, kissed the top of her head again, and after a quick detour to give Hope a scratch behind the ears, they got into bed, soon falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Mac woke up feeling surprisingly well-rested, curled protectively around his wife, a hand cradling the swell of her belly.

* * *

After breakfast with Beth (oatmeal with raisins, melted cheese and mustard for her, oatmeal with just raisins for him) and a meeting with some trade representatives from Washington, Mac made his way to the training grounds for a sparring match with Jack.

Almost two hours later, feeling physically tired, sweaty and knowing he’d have a few sore (in a good way) muscles the next day, Mac sank down next to the older man on a bench in the shade, both of them drinking water out of mugs.

Jack waited, with a patience that most wouldn’t think he had.

(Between Riley – fiercely independent and with major trust issues – and Mac – who could be really close-lipped when he wanted to be and had a tendency to start executing the plan without explaining it – he had had to learn to be.)

There was definitely something on Mac’s mind. It probably had to do with the bun he and Beth had in the oven.

(Mac was going to be a daddy before Yule. He had major Daddy Issues. It was a no-brainer.)

Eventually, the younger man spoke.

‘Jack, how did you learn to be a father? I mean, how did you know what to do? Where to start?’

Jack gave a wry smile, clapping his surrogate son on the shoulder.

‘Unfortunately, there’s no manual I can tell you to go read. Trust me, you got no idea how much I wish there was a manual.’ Mac nodded in agreement at that, as Jack continued. ‘Still, I reckon I got a little bit of Jack wisdom for you, brother. You gotta be there for your kiddo, always, make sure they know that, make sure they trust you and know they can come to you for anything.’ Mac gave a smile at that, and reached out and clapped Jack on the shoulder in response. Jack smiled back at him, then the expression shifted into something more wry. ‘I can’t really help you with all the baby and toddler stuff, you know how I skipped the diapers and tantrums and all…’ Something hit Jack, and he pointed at Mac very, very firmly. ‘Oh, I gotta tell you, man, Jack Dalton does _not_ do diapers.’

Mac gave a little smirk.

‘We’ll see about that.’

Jack crossed his arms.

‘There will be no seeing. I don’t do diapers!’

Mac raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Do you really want to bring the wrath of Beth, Diane _and_ Riley and possibly Leanna onto yourself?’

Jack actually paled. He’d faced down bandits and supernatural monsters and a very evil wizard without quailing, but that trio (or quartet, if Bozer and Leanna wound up having children together), angry, was something else.

‘Eh…good point, brother.’ A realization hit Jack. ‘Is that what you wanted that fake baby for? To practice doing diapers?’

The day after Midsummer, at which it’d been publically announced that Mac and Beth were expecting, Mac had borrowed a wooden baby from the Midwives, for reasons unknown.

‘Among other things.’

Jack snorted.

‘You’re a real weird one, brother.’

Mac didn’t miss a beat.

‘As you’ve told me, many, many times.’

‘You keep a count in that head of yours, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I tried, but I lost count years ago.’

Jack snorted and shook his head again.

‘Yeah, _weird._ ’ He put an arm around Mac’s shoulders. ‘In all seriousness, son, you’re a great man, great friend, great brother and great son. You’re gonna be a great dad.’

Mac blinked, then smiled, soft and slow and heartfelt. He reached up to clap Jack on the back.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

‘Anytime, son, anytime.’ He paused, then pointed at Mac. ‘And you should really get ‘round to writing a manual for fatherhood; trust me, it’d be a bestseller, you know how kids can get expensive…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on for the gang! I don’t think we’ll ever see Mac become a father in the show (nor will we get to see Jack talk to him about it, unfortunately), but that’s what fanfic’s for, right? 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘So this is it for us?’


	30. Chapter 30

As she finished off the very last of an absolutely delicious rich chocolate cake with a gooey centre, the cherry on top of a delicious dinner prepared by Bozer, Leanna’s eyes widened as he got down on one knee and pulled out a necklace.

‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Leanna. And I’m ready to take this to the next level. Will you marry me?’

He looked so earnest, smiling and full of love.

Leanna blinked.

‘Well, uh...well…’

His smile faltered a little, then returned, not quite as full or real, full of self-deprecation and clearly trying to make a joke.

‘Not exactly what I was hoping to hear…’

Bozer finished that statement with a weak chuckle.

Leanna managed to smile at him, and toyed with her hands in her lap.

‘It’s a big step, Bozer, and, uh, you know I’m not an impulsive woman. You just caught me by surprise, so I need time to think about it.’

He nodded, and got up, putting the necklace back in his pocket.

‘Yeah, yeah. Like, uh, five minutes? Ten? Over the rest of dessert and wine?’

Leanna pursed her lips, looking apologetic.

‘Uh, a little longer? More like a week?’

His good cheer faltered, and Leanna felt _terrible._

Then, because he was Bozer, he smiled again, and poured her some more wine, before pulling out some chocolate truffles from the ice box.

‘As long as you need.’ He paused. ‘Just, uh, try not to keep me waiting too long, please, baby?’

Leanna smiled and nodded, and reached out to take a truffle.

* * *

The next morning, when Bozer walked out of the kitchen, most of the prep done, he found Leanna and Riley talking with their heads close together at Riley’s hostess station.

He came over, and leaned over to kiss his lady goodbye as she headed off to Court, then turned to Riley.

‘So, uh, what were y’all talking about?’

‘Her client lunch tomorrow.’

Riley said that like she was asking, _what else?_

‘I thought she was asking your advice about us getting betrothed.’

Riley looked very seriously at Bozer.

‘Bozer, I don’t know what her plans are, but I’m friends with both of you…’ She held up her hands. ‘So don’t make this weird.’

He sighed.

‘Sorry, Riley.’ He sighed again. ‘It’s just, you know how I feel about her.’

That made his business partner smile.

‘Yeah, I do. But this is a big step. You got to give her some time.’

Bozer nodded, and smiled at her in thanks, before heading back to the kitchen.

Marco was just _not_ getting the hang of this sauce.

* * *

‘Jack, this is _not_ light cleaning.’

Mac stopped just inside the door of Jack’s cottage, which he’d been roped into helping the older man clean before he moved out and gave the keys back to the landlord to move in with Diane. He put down the four buckets of cleaning supplies he had balanced on his quarterstaff across his shoulders, and eyed the dust-bunny-filled, spider-web-decorated cottage. The smell of rotting food permeated the air, and he examined the congealed, mouldy mass on the kitchen table suspiciously from a distance.

Mac stuck his head out the door, to where Jack was talking to Beth, who was holding one bucket (the lightest), her other hand on her belly. At a little over six months along, her condition was obvious, probably exacerbated by the fact that she was small and he’d apparently been a large baby.

‘Beth, I don’t think you should come in here.’ She narrowed her eyes at him, and he raised his hands in supplication. ‘There’s mould everywhere and it smells like rotting food.’

Most of the nausea was gone, but her sense of smell was still unusually sensitive. And unknown moulds and pregnant women should not mix.

Beth raised her brows at Jack, who just nodded sheepishly, rubbing his chin.

‘Yeah, I haven’t been here much.’ He paused. ‘At all.’

Mac gave a snort that sounded a lot like, _no kidding._

Beth gave a wry, amused little smile, and passed her bucket off to Mac.

‘Well, then I suppose you two are in for a long day.’ She reached up as best as she could to kiss Mac on the cheek (he bent down obligingly). ‘I’ll bring you lunch at 12:30.’

‘Thanks, Beth.’

‘Could you bring extra of that sardine-and-mayo-and-jam sandwich you were eating the other day?’ Both Mac and Beth looked incredulously at Jack. She was well aware that the strange cravings she was getting were not what normal, non-pregnant people would enjoy. ‘It sounds really good!’

Mac rolled his eyes. Every time he thought he’d gotten used to Jack’s weird taste in food combinations, something like this would happen.

Beth nodded slowly, then headed back towards the castle. A group of teenagers whom they all recognized from the time Nathan returned appeared out of thin air to walk with her, something that’d been happening regularly since she’d started to show.

(It made Mac far happier than it should have that he was even further from being alone in protecting her and their unborn child than he’d thought he’d be.)

When they were out of sight, Mac grabbed a broom and a feather duster, holding them out to the former Knight.

‘Tops or bottoms?’

* * *

‘…Bozer, I’ve, uh, thought about it.’ In the middle of their dinner, one week after that fateful night, Leanna spoke up. She glanced up at him, saw the hopefulness in his eyes, and felt even worse. She looked down again. ‘I…I’m just not ready to take that step yet.’

She looked up at him, hoping that he’d understand. Bozer looked hurt and very sad, but tried valiantly to smile.

‘It’s…uh, it’s okay.’ He reached across the table. ‘We can, uh, just wait until you are. This is about _us,_ not about me.’ He paused. ‘Uh, that is, if you still want us to be, uh, _us_ …’

Leanna smiled, weaving her fingers with Bozer’s.

‘Yeah, I still want there to be an _us,_ Bozer. I’m just not ready to get married yet.’

He smiled. It was a little weak and shaky, and he still looked like he was stinging from rejection, but it was a smile nonetheless.

The rest of dinner passed slowly, more than a bit awkwardly, but was as delicious as ever, and they could both tell that the other was trying to put the failed proposal behind them, trying not to let it sit between them.

* * *

The next morning, Bozer walked into the castle workshop, where his best friend was sitting on a stool, applying some kind of sealant to the seam on a leather tube.

‘Hey, bro.’

‘Hi, Boze.’

Bozer pulled up a stool and sat down opposite Mac.

‘How’s Beth?’

Mac smiled, closing one eye to look through the tube to inspect his handiwork.

‘She and Jill are currently dealing with the merchants who refuse to accept the tax reforms.’

Bozer raised his eyebrows at that, and Mac just arched an eyebrow back in response. Realization struck Bozer a second later, and he looked sheepish. He should have thought of that a lot earlier; it was obvious.

‘Scary angry pregnant Lady?’

Mac just nodded.

‘Yup.’ He paused. ‘Although yesterday she started crying and apologizing because she’d put my coat on the wrong hook…’ That didn’t even matter to him in the slightest. ‘…and then started apologizing for all the mood swings.’

Bozer looked befuddled. Mac just shrugged easily, with the air of a man who had no idea what was going on, or what was going to happen next, but had learned to just roll with it.

_Trust me, I tried to find a pattern. Any pattern. Anything that’d help me make some predictions._

_I swear there isn’t one._

‘Pregnancy is weird, bro.’ Bozer reached out to clap Mac on the shoulder. ‘Good luck with the next three months?’

Mac smiled.

‘Apparently, the hard work starts once the baby’s here.’ Still, judging by that smile on his face, Bozer thought, his best friend was definitely looking forward to meeting his son or daughter. Then, the smile faded, and Mac put down the leather tube and turned to him with concern on his face. ‘Boze, is something wrong? You’ve been, well, distracted and pretty down this week.’

Bozer sighed in a way that told Mac a lot. The blonde reached out to put a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

‘I asked Leanna to marry me, but she isn’t ready yet. She said no.’

Mac squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

‘I’m sorry, Boze.’ He paused, and continued a little awkwardly. ‘Are you two, um, waiting until she’s ready or, uh, did you decide to see other people?’

‘We’re still together, but…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s…it’s a little weird, you know?’

Mac had no personal experience with this particular scenario, which was actually a little surprising considering his previously-dramatic and tragic love life.

Still, it did make sense, that a rejected proposal would make things a little weird and awkward.

He nodded, and squeezed Bozer’s shoulder again.

‘I think that’s normal, Boze. I hope you two can work it out.’

Bozer nodded, sounding a little lost in thought.

‘Me too, bro.’

* * *

Two weeks after Leanna had given Bozer her answer, on Riley’s fortnightly day off from the restaurant, she and Billy stood in her living room.

With a sad smile, Riley reached out and hugged him, in a way that was very much goodbye.

Because it was.

It was just too hard, no matter how hard they tried, with their respective jobs. They’d been so determined to make it work, but in the end, determination and love weren’t enough.

He was always travelling, away for weeks at a time. She couldn’t leave Lafayette Town for much more than a couple of days. He would always return at odd hours, and she worked pretty odd hours.

As much as she loved Billy, Riley couldn’t leave her family and her home and her business for him.

And as much as he loved her, Billy couldn’t leave his family business and the job they all shared and he loved for her.

In the end, for both of them, family came first. They loved their families so, so much.

(Neither of them could fault the other for that. In fact, that’d been one of the things that’d drawn Riley to Billy in the first place, which she knew was the same for him.)

They pulled apart, and Billy smiled at her again, soft and sad and fond and wistful.

‘If you ever need a bounty hunter, I’ll give you our family and friends discount.’ Riley gave a wan little smile at that. ‘And if you ever need someone else to watch your back, you know where to find me.’

Riley’s smile widened a little at that.

‘Same goes for you and your family.’

He sought out her eyes again, in a way that reminded her of that Midsummer, the day it all really began.

‘You’re awesome, Miss Riley Davis. Make sure any new man in your life knows that and shows that he does, okay?’

Her smile widened a touch more at that, and she nodded. Billy leaned over to kiss her cheek in farewell, then tipped his hat at her and slipped out the door.

Riley watched the door click closed, then sighed, her smile falling away. She flopped onto her bed, and lay there for a moment, before getting up, deciding to head towards the castle.

Beth and Jill were good company, good friends, and there were always plenty of really good snacks around the two now.

(Riley was pretty sure that Jill and Alex were going to make a happy announcement soon.)

* * *

‘…This…this is gonna keep happening, isn’t it?’

Five weeks after his failed proposal, Bozer’s voice was sad and sorry and very much heartbroken.

Things hadn’t been right between him and Leanna ever since that night, despite their best efforts. They weren’t as relaxed around one another, and seemed to be almost walking on eggshells from time to time. They weren’t as open with each other, and it was harder to communicate. Their little quirks, their opposing personality traits, were beginning to grate on each other, and they’d just had yet another fight that essentially boiled down to _you’re too impulsive, you need to think things through_ versus _you need to relax, spontaneity is fun and good for you!_

Despite their best efforts, it’d sat between them, and grown.

Leanna nodded jerkily, her eyes just as sad and pained as his.

‘Yeah.’

Bozer swallowed and looked her in the eye.

‘So this is it for us?’

Leanna, after a moment, just nodded sadly.

‘Yeah.’

There was a very long silence, before Bozer’s mouth twisted into something that might have been a very weak grin.

‘They say that getting married is supposed to make or break your relationship…’ It was a saying that was a bit of a joke around Phoenix. ‘…turns out it’s trying to.’

Leanna gave a particularly strong exhale that might have been a very weak laugh, before she got up and walked towards the door, though not before stopping very briefly by his side, putting a hand on his shoulder, and then, after a moment of hesitation, kissing him on the cheek lightly.

It felt very much like a goodbye.

‘All the best, Bozer.’

Yeah, it was definitely a goodbye.

He swallowed and managed a weak smile, though it was completely genuine.

‘You too, Leanna.’

She gave a little nod and a weak, genuine smile in return, before walking out of the door.

And, Bozer thought to himself, rather melodramatically, out of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that both Bozer and Riley’s respective relationships will come to a crossroads of some kind in canon eventually. What happened here reflects my headcanons for why that would be the case, and what would happen. 
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Love you too, Riley.’


	31. Chapter 31

‘How’s Bozer?’

Two days after Bozer and Leanna’s relationship had ended, Beth walked into the chamber off hers and Mac’s bedchamber, which had once been full of shelves of books, but had recently been converted into a nursery.

(The books had moved into their studies downstairs, and the overflow into a spare room next to hers.)

Mac was bent over the cradle (which was indeed self-rocking, though it needed winding up every two hours), making a couple of changes to an odd, rectangular, leather bladder inside. The bladder appeared to be made out of a series of tubes.

Her husband looked up at her when she spoke.

‘He’s still hurting, unsurprisingly.’ The day before, as soon as he’d heard, Mac had brought his best friend a bottle of nice wine, a pie and a good meal (the latter two from Mama Colton). ‘He’s hanging out with Riley tonight.’

Beth considered that for a moment. Both Bozer and Riley had recently had courtships end.

‘Well, at least neither of them are the wallow-in-misery type, I think.’ Bozer might appear to be, but he was too cheerful by nature to _really_ wallow; it was a more of a melodramatic wallow. Beth made her way over to the cradle, though she couldn’t get too close to it, as her belly was in the way. ‘What are you working on?’

Mac grinned, rather proudly.

‘This is a heated blanket.’ He indicated a tube that ran into one corner, and then the tube that exited the opposite corner of the blanket/bladder. The tubes ran out of and into, respectively, a small boiler, which completed a circuit for the water. ‘Hot water is pumped into the blanket…’ He indicated a foot pedal on the floor, joined to the whole system. ‘Then, when the water is cold, you can pump the water out again, to be heated in the boiler, while at the same time, hot water from the boiler is pumped in.’

With a little manoeuvring, Beth managed to reach into the cradle to put her hand on the blanket/bladder. It was definitely warm, pleasantly so. Mac had done a good job with working out the optimum leather thickness.

She smiled up at him.

‘This is wonderful, Mac!’ He grinned back at her, and she tilted her head to the left a little. ‘Are they hard to make?’

He shook his head.

‘No, the leather work is time-consuming, but not difficult. The pump and boiler part is trickier, but any Engineer could do it, and any Blacksmith or Plumber could be trained to do it without any problems, I think.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Do you want to start manufacturing these? For the Houses?’

Beth nodded immediately.

‘And for elderly citizens who feel the cold badly in the winter.’

He nodded; heated blankets would benefit patients of the Houses and the elderly, make it easier to keep them warm without lighting huge fires that everyone else felt stifling, and they should be more effective than a hot fire anyway, since the heat was more directed, localized.

‘I’ll start drawing up some plans, and see if we can get a meeting with the Blacksmiths’ Guild and Alex, and the Tanners…’ He paused in his search for a notebook, turning to his wife, who pulled a notebook and a pencil out of her dress pocket and handed it to him. ‘Are you thinking we could employ some of those people who couldn’t get placed at the Job Fair to do the leather work?’

* * *

Meanwhile, Bozer and Riley drank some of the really fancy whiskey Mac had gotten as a wedding present and ate snacks in the living room of his cottage.

(Mac had left the whiskey in the cottage after his bachelor party, and never taken it up to the castle, unlike the rest of his belongings. He’d said that there was plenty of fancy whiskey in the castle, he could easily obtain some more, and that he’d come and share it with Bozer and the rest of the family down here.)

‘You know, Mac always used to say that courting was weird, and hard.’

‘Uh, huh.’ Riley drank some more whiskey. They were probably both going to regret this in the morning, but it _was_ really good whiskey. ‘You know, I don’t think he meant it this way, Boze.’

Mac himself was weird, and what other people considered normal, easy, instinctive social interaction wasn’t quite so easy or instinctive for him.

Bozer pointed sagely at her.

‘My man Mac’s had really normal relationship problems, trust me.’ Bozer paused, took another sip of whiskey. ‘Did you ever consider taking that job offer from the Coltons, Riley? You’d have been a really awesome, badass bounty hunter, and then you and Billy could’ve been this super-awesome power couple…’

Riley sighed.

‘You know, I almost did. I was really, really close to saying yes.’ She hadn’t told anyone this before, not even Abina. She turned to Bozer. ‘But with the restaurant-‘

‘You shouldn’t have let that hold you back, not from-‘

Riley held up a hand.

‘Let me finish, Boze.’ She sighed again, as he looked sheepish. ‘With our restaurant, with my family being here…’ She shrugged. ‘It’s _home_ , and I was finally feeling…settled.’

Bozer nodded in understanding, then poured her another slug of whiskey.

‘Love you too, Riley.’

She rolled her eyes fondly, and sipped some more whiskey, before speaking.

‘Are you wondering what might have been if you hadn’t asked Leanna to marry you?’

Bozer seemed to be a big fan of what-ifs, if the plays he was trying to write were any indication.

He shrugged.

‘I dunno, Riley. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and maybe it wouldn’t have changed a thing.’ She looked over at him, brow furrowed, and Bozer shrugged, sadly, helplessly. ‘No matter how much work we put into it, things with me and Leanna weren’t ever easy.’ He shrugged again. ‘Not like it is with us.’

Riley shrugged too.

‘You and Leanna were still trying to get to know each other.’ She offered him the bowl of pork rinds. ‘But you’re pretty awesome.’

Bozer grinned back at her, and bumped his fist to hers.

‘Right back at you.’

* * *

At the Harvest Festival, Jack, Diane, Bozer and Riley sat at a table, a little ways removed from the main festivities, and both with a good view of the castle, and relatively near it.

They waved at Sidney, Nicole, Nate and Nessa, who were carrying their entries for the pumpkin-carving contest, and at Michael and Caitlyn, who were heading off to judge said contest. Billy Colton happened to pass by, and he waved at them all. Riley waved back, and after a brief moment of eye contact, Billy smiled at her, she nodded, and he went off on his way.

Eventually, Mac and Beth arrived from the castle, a whole fifteen minutes later than they’d been expected.

As Beth was practically never late for anything, that was noteworthy, and she apologized as Mac helped her sit down on the chair they’d procured for her.

(The rest of them sat on the two benches on either side of the table, but getting in and out of a chair was hard enough for her now, with the baby due any day. A bench was pretty much undoable.)

‘Sorry we’re late.’ Her dress rippled noticeably, like the baby was agreeing with the sentiment, or potentially objecting to being blamed, and Beth rubbed a hand across her belly, trying to settle the little MacGyver. She looked down and addressed her belly, wry and fond. ‘You’ll be out soon enough, and then your daddy will get you a real workbench, instead of my bladder and my ribs.’ She looked up at them all. ‘Judging by how low he or she has dropped, and hence how much I’m waddling, as well as, uh, several other factors not suitable for public consumption, I think he or she is likely to come in the next week.’

The news made them all smile, with Jack and Bozer looking particularly excited.

(It wasn’t news for Mac, who was just in a state of permanent excitement and happiness and minor terror by now.)

 Jack eyed her belly sceptically.

‘Are you sure there’s only one of ‘em in there? ‘Cause you’ve gotten pretty…’ He mimed an exaggerated version of her belly in front of himself. Beth glared at him. Everyone else shot him a _look_ , and Riley kicked his shin under the table, while Diane swatted his arm. Jack backtracked. Quickly. ‘Uh, did you guys here something? Probably nothing; just the wind, or Ol’ Jack rambling…’

Shaking his head at the Knight, Mac turned to his wife.

‘What do you want to eat?’

It was of vital importance that Beth got proper nutrition and kept up her strength prior to the birth. Ergo, she needed proper meals, and plenty of rest, and anything else that she wanted, and he had applied himself to seeing to that with the kind of single-minded determination that was usually applied to his Ideas and saving innocent lives.

Beth pursed her lips, considering, as her belly rippled again, the baby deciding to make its presence felt…or possibly trying to give its lunch order.

‘Some kind of roasted meat, vegetable soup and a couple of the softer bread rolls.’

The bizarre food cravings were not striking today, apparently.

Mac nodded, leaned over to kiss her cheek, and then he was gone, running off as fast as he did when he got seized by a plan (or half of one) and forgot to explain it in the middle of a life-threatening situation.

Everyone just watched him go, and Jack shook his head and turned to the whole group.

‘Our boy’s gonna come back with a whole hog, a giant pot of soup and half a bakery, ain’t he?’

Riley raised an eyebrow and turned to Beth.

‘He’s driving you crazy, isn’t he?’

Mac’s tendency to be doting, attentive and protective, as well as his obsession with baby-related science and engineering, had seemed to grow as Beth’s baby bump grew.

Beth just sighed and smiled, an exasperated, long-suffering, loving and ultimately rather indulgent sound that Jack suspected she’d be directing to the son she was carrying sooner rather than later.

(He was completely convinced that the baby was a boy. He was pretty sure that that little flash of the two blonde boys wreaking havoc he’d had a year ago was not just his imagination, but a flash of the future.)

(For the same reason, he was convinced that the baby Jill and Alex were expecting was also a boy.)

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Though he’s been kept busy lately, retraining washerwomen to build and maintain washing machines.’

Mac had created many, many machines and inventions in the last eight or so months, since he and Beth had found out about the baby. Some were crazy and probably not useful, but several had great potential, and he’d been training people to produce them ever since. These included the self-rocking cradle, the heated blankets and washing machines, into which you just placed the washing, cold water, and soap. It would then heat the water, and agitate and shake the wash when you turned the crank. Its invention and the likelihood of it becoming very popular, since it was much faster and more efficient than washing by hand, would put some washerwoman out of work (turning the crank, and sorting, hanging, folding and ironing the clothes wasn’t as laborious and didn’t require as many hands, after all), hence the retraining program.

Jack shook his head, taking a sip of his beer, muttering half to himself.

‘Mac, man, I love you, but you’re mad.’

That was proven eight minutes later, when Mac returned, holding a large platter covered in roast beef, roast pork, roast pumpkin, roasted peppers and three kinds of potato (fried, mashed and roasted), as well as somehow juggling a big bowl of vegetable soup. He was followed by a middle-aged woman, wearing an apron stamped with the symbol of a popular food vendor, carrying another equally-large platter with three different kinds of roast fowl (chicken, duck and turkey) and a whole barbecued fish. There was also a boy of ten or eleven, carrying a giant bread basket of assorted rolls (it really did look like four or five of everything) with four butter dishes in it, who was followed by his older sister, who had a platter of fruit and cheese.

Jack, Diane, Bozer and Riley all blinked in shock. Beth sighed in that long-suffering yet fond way again, and rubbed her temple with a hand.

Mac put down the food, tipped the kids and the woman, and took a look at the spread (which occupied more than half the table). His thinking-face appeared, and then, he ran off again.

‘Be back in a minute!’

Beth sighed again. Riley and Diane exchanged a very similar look, complete with raised eyebrows. Bozer and Jack shook their heads, the former starting to pass out the plates and cutlery he’d brought along, then pulling out the drinks he’d prepared earlier, Jack turning to Beth.

‘Does he expect you to eat all this?’

Beth shrugged helplessly as she accepted a bowl of vegetable soup from Bozer. The baby kicked again when she did, almost upsetting her bowl, as if happy at the prospect of vegetable soup. Or possibly complaining; it was hard to tell.

‘I don’t think so…’

She sounded like she really hoped not.

If he did, her husband had lost his mind.

After she’d had a few spoonfuls of soup, and everyone else had started eating, Mac returned, holding a platter of piled high with assorted desserts in one hand, and a plate of what looked like a quarter of a pumpkin pie in the other. He put the pumpkin pie down in front of Beth, and shot Jack a look that promised orange hair and blue skin if he dared to steal a bite. Jack put up his hands reassuringly; he knew better than to take food from the pregnant lady.

A moment later, Alex and Jill, who had recently started to show through her dress, arrived, Jill holding a huge bowl of mashed potatoes, and Alex juggling a large platter of roasted meats and vegetables and an entire blueberry pie.

Jill smiled widely.

‘Oh, good, you got lots of food.’

* * *

That night, as the dancing was in full swing, Bozer turned to his business partner and dear friend, holding out a hand.

They both loved to dance, and had no one else to dance with right now.

Besides, the couple of times he had, he’d really enjoyed dancing with Riley. She had _moves_ , and they moved well together.

He sketched out a mock bow, and put on a silly, posh accent.

‘May I have this dance, m’lady?’

Riley shook her head, but she was smiling, and gave a half-laugh, taking his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor.

* * *

They danced the night away, staying later than the rest of their friends, and very, very late that night (or very early the next morning), Bozer walked home with her, the two of them laughing and talking, walking a little too close together, so that their sides brushed occasionally or they sometimes bumped into each other slightly.

At her door, Riley put the key in the lock, before turning and smiling at him.

‘Happy Harvest Festival, Bozer.’

She reached out and hugged him tightly, then, just before pulling away, kissed him lightly, quickly, on the cheek.

Bozer smiled back at her.

‘Happy Harvest Festival, Riley.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re nearly at the end now! Just one more chapter to go!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘Beth’s gonna kill us, painfully, if we let something happen to you now!’


	32. Chapter 32

Six days later, at about 6 in the morning (way too early), Jack was woken up by a banging on the door, and Nate’s voice, sounding very excited.

‘Sir Jack, Ms Diane, Lady Beth’s having the baby!’ Blearily, Jack sat up and rubbed his eyes, as Diane did the same, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘I’ve been sent to get you; Lady Beth says you’re welcome in the chamber, Ms Diane, and she wants you to keep Lord Mac busy! I’m gotta go, I have to tell Mr Bozer next!’

Nate ran off, and Jack turned to Diane, his eyes falling quite naturally on the locket that hung around her neck as of last night.

(It was not a traditional betrothal necklace, but she probably wouldn’t have wanted traditional again anyway, and she adored it. It had tiny, specially-commissioned portraits of herself, Riley and Jack in it.)

Diane smiled at him, reading the excitement and nerves he felt at his impending grandfather-hood easily.

She leaned over to kiss him, not caring about their morning breath, and then got out of bed, as he jumped up.

They dealt with their morning ablations quickly, then hurried up to the castle, both eating an apple as they went.

* * *

Jack, along with Bozer, who’d arrived at a sprint just a couple of minutes after him, walked into the castle workshop, where they’d been told that Mac and Michael could be found.

The two Engineers were doing something to a very strange-looking machine sitting on a workbench. It had four flat blades at the top, arranged like the points of a compass.

Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance, as they seemed to be rather distracted.

(Michael had put his shirt on backwards. Mac appeared to be trying to screw a screw in with an awl.)

Then, they walked up to the father- and grandfather-to-be.

‘Hey, bro.’

‘We got the good news.’

‘What’cha working on?’

Michael answered, sounding distracted by worry.

‘A flying machine.’

Mac continued, sounding morose and, underneath all that, anxious.

‘Beth kicked me out.’ He paused. He had never been one for tradition. ‘I wanted to stay with her.’

Jack reached out and clapped Michael on the shoulder, while Bozer put an arm around his best friend.

They all knew childbirth was hard and potentially quite dangerous for women.

Women died in childbirth, though the numbers were lowering, as the Healer’s art improved, and corsets went out of fashion.

Jack reached out to put a hand on Mac’s arm.

‘It’s women’s territory, son.’ He squeezed gently. ‘She’s got the best Healer and Midwife in town with her, and her mom and Diane.’

Mac nodded slowly.

‘And Mama Colton and Nicole.’

Beth had said that Jill and Riley could come and join her in the birthing chamber too, despite it being unusual for women who hadn’t had children or weren’t Healers or Midwives, but both women had declined, not wanting to be put off and terrified, which was fair enough. Jill was having a leisurely breakfast with Alex, while Riley was managing the restaurant through the lunch service, before handing over to Abina for dinner.

Bozer smiled reassuringly at his best friend.

‘See? She’s gonna be fine, and you’re gonna get to meet your baby Engineer soon!’

Michael spoke up, his expression a touch wry.

‘It might not be all that soon. It could well be tonight, or even tomorrow.’ His voice shifted, like he was partly trying to reassure himself, not just Mac. ‘Beth’s healthy and strong, she has plenty of support, and she’s not too young or too old. She’ll be fine.’

Mac nodded again, his eyes falling on the flying machine. They widened, and he called out.

‘Duck!’

All four men flung themselves to the ground.

A few seconds later, the flying machine disintegrated violently, sending parts flying everywhere.

Jack raised his head off the ground as the last pieces settled.

‘Son, I get you probably don’t wanna go to the tavern for a drink or head out fishing or hunting…’ All normal activities to take a father-to-be while his wife was labouring, but he knew Mac would want to stay sober and close. ‘…but can I suggest something other than flying-machine-building?’

Bozer continued.

‘Beth’s gonna kill us, painfully, if we let something happen to you _now_!’

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were safely ensconced in Mac’s study, with a tray of snacks the kitchen had sent up (Mama Colton’s orders, apparently), a small keg of beer, a bottle of cordial and one of apple juice.

* * *

Just before 3 in the afternoon, Mac, Michael, Jack, Bozer, Riley and Hope’s vigil was interrupted by Nate, who appeared in the doorway with his hair and tunic a little askew, a massive grin on his face.

From where she was lying at Mac’s feet, Hope raised her head. Riley’s laughter at whatever Bozer had whispered in her ear ceased immediately.

‘Come on!’ Nate grinned even wider, somehow. ‘The baby’s here!’

He took off again at a sprint, and Mac almost dropped his book in his haste to put it down as they all hastened to follow. They’d just reached the door when Nate’s head reappeared.

‘And Lord Mac, Lady Beth and the baby are doing really well. Sorry, that was what I was supposed to tell you…’

They all saw some of the weight come off Mac’s shoulders, as he smiled and ran after the Page.

* * *

Beth was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows, looking exhausted, but as hale and hearty as one could be after giving birth, it seemed. She was also smiling wondrously down at a bundle in her arms with a truly impressive shock of very blonde hair, looking as happy and blissful as any of them had ever seen her, eyes full of love.

She looked up and smiled at Mac as he walked through the door, Nate, Jack, Michael, Bozer and Riley staying outside, though all four males peeked in the sides of the doorframe, like children.

‘Come meet your son.’

The grin on his face impossibly wide, Mac walked over and very carefully took the bundle that she passed him, holding their son with more confidence and less fear of dropping him than he’d thought possible.

(It appeared all that practice with a wooden baby – plus some time spent at the orphanage helping out with its youngest residents – had helped.)

(Beth teased him about it, but as much as he loved improvising, and as good as he was at it, they’d both agreed that some things should not be improvised, hence all the time and effort they’d put into preparing.)

He looked down at the tiny, still-red and somewhat scrunched up face of the seemingly miniscule baby in his arms, smile and eyes full of wonder and joy and love.

The baby boy chose that moment to open his eyes, which were vividly blue, to look up at his dad.

Mac’s grin somehow widened further, and he spoke softly down at the newborn.

‘Hi. I’m your dad. It’s…it’s nice to meet you.’

Objectively, he probably looked like countless other newborn babies, but he didn’t to Mac.

Obviously, their son had inherited his colouring (at least for now – Beth had been born blonde), but he swore he could see Beth’s nose on his tiny face.

Beth smiled at the picture that the two of them made, and gestured with her head to the group that’d congregated at the door.

‘Go make introductions, Mac.’

He managed to tear his eyes away from the precious bundle in his arms to look at her.

‘Are we going with what we planned?’

They’d come up with a name for a daughter, and one for a son.

Beth’s smile widened, and she nodded.

‘I think it suits him.’

Mac looked down at the baby boy, considered for a moment, before nodding too.

‘It does.’ Carefully, he walked over to the door, as everyone came a little further inside. ‘Nicholas Harry MacGyver, meet your Grandma Kait, Grandpa Michael, Grandpa Jack, Uncle Bozer, Auntie Riley and Grandma Diane…’

* * *

‘Would you like to hold him?’

At the Yule celebration, Mac, cradling baby Nick in his arms, addressed his father, who was looking down at his grandson, that rare, genuine, soft smile on his face.

James MacGyver had come to visit for Yule, and to meet his grandchild. He hesitated, glanced from his grandson to his son, before nodding, and very carefully took Nick from his father’s arms.

Nick stared up at his grandfather, and Jim looked back down at him, the smile on his face widening, even softening further.

After a moment, he looked back up at his son.

‘I wish your mom was here to meet him.’

Mac nodded, a wistful, sadness-tinged smile on his face.

‘Yeah, me too.’ He gestured around the room. Jack, Diane, Caitlyn and Michael were conversing, while Bozer and Riley set up the food. Alex stole a fruit mince pie and a slice of pastrami for Jill, who proceeded to wrap the former in the latter and eat it with gusto. Matty was sitting with Beth, who was nibbling on a fruit mince pie that Mac had stolen for her earlier, the two women laughing about something that was probably embarrassing for one or both of the adult MacGyvers. ‘But he’ll never lack for family.’

Jim nodded, glancing down at his grandson again, a touch of guilt in his voice.

‘No, he won’t.’

* * *

‘Boze, look up.’

As she and Bozer cleared the last of the leftovers from Yule dinner, moving them into the antechamber off the dining room they were using for the Yule party, Riley pointed at the ceiling.

Somehow, there was a sprig of mistletoe suspended twelve feet above them, hanging from the castle’s stone ceiling, right in the middle of the room. Bozer was sure it hadn’t been there earlier.

There were only two possible explanations.

One, Mac was playing matchmaker, since he could definitely find _some_ way to get the mistletoe up there.

But Mac was currently a sleep-deprived proud papa, who had spent the last half-hour pacing around, holding his son, to give Beth a chance to eat.

And he wasn’t inclined towards matchmaking anyway, and Bozer wasn’t convinced that Mac had noticed the _something_ that’d been building between him and Riley, ever since the Harvest Festival.

(He’d been very busy, really distracted and hadn’t had enough sleep, and correctly interpreting things like this wasn’t Mac’s strongest suit anyway.)

Two, _magic._

Bozer’s eyes went wide, and he held up his hands.

‘We don’t have to if you don’t want to…I mean, _pshaw_ to tradition, we’re hip, ground-breaking trailblazers! And screw magic, free will is essential!’

Bozer kept rambling on about being cool and innovative and the importance of consent and how magic matchmaking should be ignored if one party wasn’t cool with it.

Riley took a moment to shake her head, wondering wryly why she felt this way about him.

(The answer was pretty obvious, in all seriousness. Bozer was cute and funny and smart and sweet, with a huge heart and was one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for.)

(And whatever you would call their relationship now, despite the rocky start, it was easy and comfortable and just felt natural.)

Then, she spoke up.

‘Bozer, stop talking.’

He shut up immediately.

With a surprisingly almost-slightly-shy smile, Riley leaned over, grabbed his collar and kissed him.

It didn’t last long, not much more than a quick and rather chaste peck, but Bozer, quite flatteringly, looked like she’d hit him over the head with his frying pan.

‘Do…do you want to try being more than friends and business partners?’

Bozer took a moment to shake himself out of his shock, but then grinned like she’d made his Yule.

‘Hell yeah, Miss Davis.’

With that, she pulled him in for a proper kiss.

* * *

In late January, Mac stood by Jack’s side as he and Diane exchanged their vows.

He swore he caught a glimpse of a familiar dark-haired woman, in a burgundy dress, with a little smile on her face, something unusually soft in her eyes, and another glimpse of a blonde, ethereal beauty in cream, a knowing smile on her face.

When he blinked, they were gone.

* * *

_They say that some blessings come to you in disguise._

_I think what happened to myself, Jack and Bozer is empirical evidence for that._

_I’m not saying that we didn’t have some more trials and tribulations, or fights and quarrels. But looking back on it, those were far outweighed by moments of love and happiness and family._

_Our story didn’t end here, far from it._

_It hasn’t even all been written yet. I don’t know how or when it’s going to end._

_But I can tell you one thing: we all lived happily ever after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! Thanks for sticking with me on this long, long ride, and I really hoped you guys enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins! Hope you guys enjoyed that start!
> 
> Teaser for next chapter: ‘If you ever let anything happen to her, I will end you, Jack Wyatt Dalton.’


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